“Ugh, NO.”
He shrugs again, throwing his hands in the air. “Well?”
The footsteps continue to climb the stairs as my blood pressure goes through the damn roof. God, why are we even in this moment where I’ve got Dalton half naked in my bedroom?
…Right, because I asked him to here.
Nice move, psycho.
“Can you hide?”
“Hailey?”
The knock on my door has me jumping out of my skin, but it also seems to finally have an effect on Dalton too. His eyes dart to the door, and the first time maybe ever, I see something that looks a little bit like fear there.
Well, maybe not fear, but “less cocky”.
It’s a start.
He gives me a final look before he darts into the adjoining bathroom and shuts the door just as my dad knocks again.
I take a deep breath, hoping to God my sins of last night aren’t plainly written on my face as I pull open the door.
“Hey, sport.”
I smile, clenching my hand into a fist at my side and forcing myself to smile and breathe. “Hey, Dad.”
“You got a minute?”
He follows me into the room, and for a second, a spike of fear lances through me.
Dalton’s jeans are on the floor.
I quickly kick them under my desk with my heel as my dad turns to close the door. God knows where Dalton’s shirt is - probably and hopefully still tangled up in my mess of a bed.
Dad turns to me, a concerned look on his face. “You okay, kiddo?”
I shake my head quickly. “Yeah, dad, I’m gre-”
“I heard about last night, Hailey.”
My heart almost climbs right out of my mouth, the blood draining from my face before he puts a hand on my arm. “The party, honey.”
Sweet sweet relief floods through me.
Yeah, going to a party I can explain…fooling around with his new wife’s son is another matter altogether.
My cheeks go red as I quickly look at the floor. “Dad, it was just a party and I only had one dri-”
“Hailey, honey, I don’t care about the party. And right now at least, I don’t care about you having a drink.”
His voice is heavy with emotion, tired and yet concerned.
“I care about you being safe.”
His eyes harden before he suddenly brings me into a hug. “Jesus, honey, I’m so sorry about what happened.”
Oh, that.
As horrible as it sounds, I’ve actually almost entirely forgot about the incident with Henderson in the aftermath of what happened later with Dalton.
“I’m really okay, dad.”
“Thanks to Dalton.” My dad shakes his head, emotion creeping into his eyes as he grits his teeth. “Thank God your stepbrother was there.”
Uh, yeah…
He hugs me again before he pulls back and looks at me, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry, honey.”
I smile weakly. “Dad, I really am okay. Dalton and my friend Roxie took care of me and then he brought me home.”
Dad’s face goes grim. “Heather’s going to start proceedings to see if we can have that shit-bird removed from classes pending a formal inquiry, and I should mention it goes without saying that his ass is off the team.”
I quickly shake my head. “No, Dad, I don’t need you guys pulling special strings for me.”
He frowns. “Honey, we’d do this if it was any student that got attacked by that piece of shit. But you’re my daughter, and I plan on stringing this little prick up by his balls.”
I groan. “Dad, everyone’s just going to think you’re making an example of him because my dad is Coach Garr-”
“You’re Goddamn right they will!” Dad’s voice rises sharply as his eyes flash. His mouth tightens. “You’re damn right they will,” he says quieter with a shake of his head. “No one gets away with trying to lay their hands on my little girl like that, do you understand?”
I nod as the smile creeps across my face. “I got it.” I throw my arms around my dad. “And thank you.”
He squeezes me back tightly. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m really fine, Dad.”
He pulls back and shakes his head. “I’m just so thankful that Dalton was there to get you out of that whole thing.”
That whole thing and my panties, actually.
My face goes red at the thought, and I quickly shake those memories from my head.
“Hey, what say you and me go out for burger or a shake sometime, just the two of us like we used to?”
He ruffles my hair in that way that used to bug me when I was little because it felt like something he should be doing to a son, not his daughter. It was one of those things like him calling me “sport” that used to grate on me, before I realized that that was just my dad.
Who loves me.
I grin, nodding. “Name a time, and I’m there.”
* * *
The bathroom door creeks open after he heads back downstairs.
“Well,” Dalton steps out, running his hand through his hair and shooting a look at my bedroom door. “I’m officially terrified of your dad now.”
“Feeling guilty?”
I say it quicker and with more fire than I meant to, and his look sours.
“I distinctly remember someone asking me to stay last night.”
“Yeah, well…”
My face goes red as I trail off.
“Oh, what?”
“Nothing, I just-”
“Can’t believe how good I made you feel?” Dalton flashes a lopsided grin at me.
“No, I can’t believe I did that.”
“You’d be surprised how much fun you can have when you let yourself go a little.”
I’m shaking my head as I suddenly whirl and glare at him. “You know what, maybe you should feel guilty for once in your life.”
He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shake my head, pushing my hair out of my face. “Dalton, I mean I was attacked last night.”
“Yeah, I was there, remember?”
And this is where I should stop. This is where I should take a breath and realize it’s not Dalton I’m mad at, or that I’m not mad at all.
I’m scared.
I’m scared of what last night means with him and I’m scared that “experimenting” goes a little further when you wake up in each other’s arms.
But I don’t stop, or breathe, or listen to what’s really going around inside my head.
I lash out.
“Oh, to swoop in? To pick me up? Carry me home?”
I glare at him. “To climb into my bed?”
Dalton’s face goes dark. “Okay, listen, darlin,” he spits out.
“Is this one of your moves, huh? Get them while they’re emotionally unstable?”
His eyes narrow. “That is not what last night was and you damn well know it.”
And I do, but I can’t stop it. It’s like every second guess or fear I’ve got stashed inside about what it is I’m doing with Dalton comes pouring out of a tap, and there’s no turning it off.
“I think you should go,” I say quietly.
“Yeah, you know what?” He’s shaking his head as he yanks his jeans up. He gives me one last look. “I do too.”
The door slams behind him.
I’m slumping down on the floor next to the bed we shared the night before, dropping my head into my hands and sucking in rattling lungfuls of air.
Nice going, weirdo.
24
Dalton
I’m grumbling later as I storm into the locker room back on campus.
That was a mistake, I shouldn’t have stepped foot in that room last night.
Well, no, that much is bullshit. What happened last night is fucking awesome. What happened last night is burning like a little match inside my head, putting this ridiculous grin on my face, however pissed I am.
It’s this morning that has the scowl lingerin
g there when the smile fades, though. It’s this morning, and Hailey’s little panicky meltdown, not to mention her shit attitude after that little heart-to-heart with her dad.
That’s what’s got me shaking my head, and muttering about my choices.
Because Hailey Garrison wasn’t some fling, or just “some girl.” And I don’t exactly know what she is, but I do know one thing.
She wasn’t ready for that.
I mean, clearly she wasn’t, that much is obvious. It’s that geeky inexperience and innocence about her that attracts me. It’s what gets my cock harder than steel just from a flash of her eyes or a sassy comeback from her lips.
But it’s also that she’s actually inexperienced and innocent. She’s not used to this - “this” meaning “interactions of an adult nature”, like last night.
Like sex.
I shake my head as I jerk my locker open.
“Dalton.”
I freeze at the sound of Coach’s voice from behind me. Slowly, feeling my pulse skip, I turn to see him standing in his office doorway, his arms crossed over his barrel chest and a dark look on his face.
“Coach?”
“In my office, son,” he says gruffly, unblinking, unemotional.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I swallow, my feet moving in slow motion towards his office. He moves back behind his desk easing his frame into his creaky leather chair as I step inside. He slowly shakes his head before looking up at me with a piercing look.
“Dalton.”
Oh holy shit, he knows.
The fear lances through me, and for a second, I wonder if he’s still got it in him to chase me if I make a break for it.
He knows what I did with Hailey last night, and he’s about to kill me.
“Coach, I-”
“I want to talk about Hailey, son.”
He crosses his arms across his chest again, leaning back in that chair and keeping his eyes locked on me. “What the hell were you thinking last night?”
My heart’s about to explode right out of my chest, and I can feel a cold sweat break out across my back.
“Fuck, Coach, I-”
“Language, son.”
Coach is old-school like that - considering some words to be ‘cuss words’ not appropriate for his locker room.
I’d grin or laugh about it right now, if I didn’t think I was about to get buried in a shallow grave.
“Sorry, Coach,” I say, clearing my throat. “Last night-”
I take a deep breath before I look him right in the eye. Fuck it, if I’m going down, I’m going to go down like a Goddamn man, no sniveling for forgiveness.
“Sir, she was-”
Coach holds up a hand and stops me. “She was there at that party.” He shakes his head. “I’m mad enough about that, don’t let me tell you otherwise.” He leans over the desk towards me. “Listen, Dalton. I just want to say-”
‘I just want to say that your career is over, your life is forfeit, and I’m going to take pleasure in cutting your dick off before killing you.’
“I just want to say I really appreciate what you did for my daughter, Dalton.”
Hold the fuck up…what?
“Coach?”
He chuckles - he fucking chuckles. “I mean knocking that shit-bird on his ass, son.”
Oh that.
My legs wobble as the adrenaline floods through me.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done - or what she would’ve done if you hadn’t been there to set things right.”
I smile weakly, blowing air out through my lips as I run a hand through my hair.
“But Dalton, you’ve got ESPN coming today. We can’t afford to have them on T.V. talking about you knocking teammates out.” He grins, “However heroic.”
I grin back. “I mean, Coach, it was pretty heroic.”
He chuckles. “I bet it was, son. I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t have minded seeing you knock that little turd on his ass. And again, I don’t think me or my daughter can thank you enough.” He leans back in his chair, fingering his mustache. “I’m serious, by the way. I honestly can’t think about what would’ve happened if you weren’t there. But you’ve gotta rein it in a little. I need that energy on the field, not off.”
I frown. “So, I should not hit the piece of shit who’s creeping hard on the innocent girl next time?”
Coach’s eyes narrow. “You know that’s not what I’m saying, son. But it’s about perception, and you’ve gotta think about that when you act. You’ve got a long road ’til the NFL, Dalton. We can get there, but I need you focused.”
I nod, and his look softens into a grin. “So, you ready to bring that same hurt down on the Tigers in a few days?”
“Absolutely.”
He blows out a thin stream of air as he eases back in his chair and grins at me again. ““Good, cause I just kicked my veteran power forward with the broken noses off the team.”
* * *
It’s later, when I’m doing some strength conditioning in the weight room - yeah, that weight room - that Coach’s words really sink in.
Stopping a piece of shit from assaulting a girl is certainly one thing. But the press I could get for beating the shit out of the guy is another thing altogether. They say there’s no such thing as bad press, but that’s bullshit.
There’s no such thing as bad press, until you get bad press.
I grunt as I muscle the bar bell up from my chest and back onto the bench press rack, and then it’s the other lingering thought that trickles into my head.
Hailey.
Specifically, the terrible way she reacted this morning. Sure, it was her dad almost walking in on us that got her spooked, but it was more than that.
It was me. It was that fear and suspicion in her eyes at it being me in that room and in that bed when she woke up.
I scowl as I sit up from the bench. I reach for my cell on the towel next to me, and I’m about to fire off a quick text to her when I roll my eyes at myself. I groan as I drop back onto the bench.
For fuck’s sake, who the hell do I have myself confused with? Am I insane? I don’t fucking text girls after spending the night, especially girls who scowl and curse at me in the morning.
Yeah, no way.
Coach is right, the last thing I need are distractions when I need to stay focused. Clingy, confused, consuming distractions like the inexperienced and unprepared Hailey Garrison.
So that’s my plan, I decide as I grab ahold of the bench bar and muscle it back off the rack. This whole back and forth with Hailey has to end, for both of us.
I grunt as I lower the bar to my chest, feeling my muscles tense.
I need to let her down easy, and then move on.
She’ll be fine.
I’ll be fine.
I’m always fine.
25
Dalton
Well, shit.
You know what they say about “the best laid plans”?
Yeah, they’re right.
I head directly to Hailey’s dorm room after practice, ignoring the annoying shrieking, giggling and camera clicks of girls on her floor as I make my way to her door.
There’s no answer to my knocking. I frown at the door and try about five more times, before the door next to hers opens and Roxie pokes her head out, scowling. “Dude, she’s not-” She blinks as she recognizes me and then grins. “Oh, hey there, Tyson.”
“Tyson?”
Roxie steps out of her room. “Yeah, you know ‘float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’?” She dances on her toes, throwing fake boxing jabs at me.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, right, the fight. I think you mean Mohammad Ali.”
Roxie’s fists drop. “Who?”
“The whole float like a butterfly, sting like- okay, yeah, forget it,” I say, seeing the bored look on her face. “Look, do you know where she is?”
She shrugs and smirks. “I mean, it’s Saturday, and we’re talking about Hailey, so
the library maybe? Is there a gaming tournament somewhere?”
I grin. “Very possible.”
“How’s she doing?”
Way better after I sent her into fucking orbit last night with my fingers.
“She’s good.” I swallow the rest of what I want to say.
“Who are you talking to?” The door to Roxie’s room opens behind her and a blonde girl I vaguely know from the Hawks cheer squad pokes her head out.
I also vaguely know her as straight, but I’m guessing that might be up for re-evaluation judging from her sex hair and oversized t-shirt as she stands there in Roxie’s doorway.
Her eyes go wide and her face goes bright red as she notices me, and she makes this little “peep” sound before she ducks back inside.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t worry about it,” Roxie shrugs. “Anyways, check the library.” She grins, “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a girl who swore off men last night I have to tend to.” She winks before ducking back inside her room, leaving me chuckling in the hallway and shaking my head.
* * *
Contrary to popular opinion, Hailey isn’t in the library when I go check. She’s also not in the science building, the student center, or any of the half-dozen “study areas” around campus.
After that, I give up and decide to head home to change, and that’s when my plans start to fall apart.
Because I get about five steps from my car, heading back to my apartment above the garage, when I happen to glance back at the pool, and that’s when I spot her.
Holy shit, do I spot her.
She’s out sunning herself on one of the pool chairs.
In a damn bikini.
Damn. I’ve never seen this much skin on her.
I mean, I made this girl come last night with her shirt pulled up, her panties around her knees, and my fingers deep inside her pussy. But it was dark, and it’s not like either of us could see much.
This is way different, and I fucking like it.
I immediately detour from the garage door towards the pool, my eyes locked on Hailey’s stretched out form in the chair.
It’s not even a particularly sexy bikini either. It’s not scandalous or some sort of slutty thong or anything I’d expect see around the sorority houses. It’s just a plain bikini - green, which contrasts nicely against her freckled white skin and red hair.
Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 40
