DIRTY PLAYER: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

  It’s weird being back here after all these years. I feel a thrill of butterflies in my stomach similar to the ones I felt four years ago during the draft. Same hotel. Same smell.

  Then I think of Camille, of pushing her against the wall of a different hotel room and fucking her in secret. God, that was hot.

  That scenery is going to forever be in my masturbatory material.

  I hop in the elevator up to the penthouse. What was Bill’s business partner’s name? Some woman. Janelle? Jessica? Jay – something. I think I’m close.

  I knock on the dual doors and I hear a woman’s voice yell at me to come in. Damn, this is a nice suite. It’s drowning in Texas style: worn leather, taxidermy on the walls, scenes of the Hill Country trapped in paintings on every wall.

  “Janet,” the woman says. She’s in jeans and cowboy boots. I’m horribly overdressed.

  “Blake Merriman,” I say, holding out my hand.

  “Come, come, sit down.” She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes. “I’m sorry we’re not meeting under better circumstances.”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Sanders.”

  She waves her hand. “It was bound to happen someday.” She claps her hands together eagerly. “We have a new owner. Well, co-owner. I have forty-nine percent of the team. But we have someone very special filling Bill’s shoes.”

  The doors to the room open and Camille blows in wearing a red sundress and strappy espadrilles.

  “Camille?” I stand up and smooth out my suit jacket.

  She freezes at the door, her mouth hanging open. She’s straightened her auburn hair and pulled it into a long ponytail draped over one shoulder.

  “Blake.”

  Janet looks from me to Camille and back.

  “I take it you two know each other?”

  There’s another knock at the door before we can answer.

  “Room service!”

  Camille steps away from the door and calls over her shoulder.

  “Come in.”

  I give her a cocky smile before turning to answer Janet’s question.

  “Yeah, we know each other quite well.”

  Camille looks like she wants to slap me as blush rises in her cheeks.

  “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

  Janet laughs. “Well, come in before you get run over by the room service cart.” Janet looks at me. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  I am hungry, but suddenly it’s not for food. Camille’s breasts bounce as she walks across the room and takes a seat next to Janet. She stares determinedly at the dishes being spread on the long coffee table in front of us. The hotel clerk sweeps silver lids off trays of food. Miniature hamburgers, onion rings, fries, and a smorgasbord of fruit cover the table.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you hoped I was hungry,” I say to Janet. But I’m still looking at Camille, even as she fills her plate and ignores me.

  “We like to welcome our players the best way we can. You have practice in a few hours, right? I need you to be ready to kick some ass on the field. We nearly made it to the finals last year. The city could really use a win from us.”

  “I plan on it,” I say, my eyes twinkling at Camille.

  She grimaces at me, not touching the food on her plate. She finally speaks. “You acclimating to Austin?”

  “You’ll have to show me around the city,” I say to both her and Janet.

  Janet looks like this is the greatest idea she’s ever heard in her life.

  “Camille has lived here nearly her whole life. She’s a great tour guide.”

  “Not really,” Camille says.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “I’d be honored to receive a tour from you.” I give her a pointed look. “You know, show me around…places.”

  Camille blushes again.

  Janet is eating heartily and clearly not noticing the tension between us.

  “You not hungry?” she asks Camille.

  “No, I seem to have lost my appetite, sadly,” she replies, putting her plate down.

  Janet wipes her mouth with her napkin.

  “Well, I hate to eat and run…” She bends down and kisses Camille on the cheek. “Funeral preparations, you know.”

  Camille nods, still not looking at me. Janet flees the room and it’s just the two of us alone.

  “This is cozier,” I say with a grin.

  Camille rolls her eyes.

  “We’re here for business.”

  “I thought you hated football.”

  She pauses.

  “I’m here to continue my dad’s legacy.”

  “I’ll repeat what I said: I thought you hated football.”

  She folds her hands in her lap, her face stony.

  “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

  “I know which parts of you to lick to make you scream my name,” I reply, leaning forward.

  She bites her lip and blushes.

  “Besides that, you don’t know the first thing about me.”

  I laugh.

  “I’d like to get to know you even better.” What’s wrong with me? I’m not a one-woman man. But just her presence is making me think about settling down for the rest of my life.

  She finally reaches for a French fry. I want to be the salt grains on her lips.

  “Well that certainly can’t happen now that you work for me.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Ah, so if you weren’t the new owner of the team, we could be together?”

  She chews thoughtfully.

  “In your dreams, Merriman.” She wipes her hands on her napkin and stands up. I follow suit. “I think you’ve been adequately introduced to upper management. We should go.”

  “We should go? Alright, where are we going?”

  Her face is red again.

  “I mean we should go. Separately. To – to wherever you’re going and wherever I’m going.”

  I take a step closer to her.

  “If I didn’t know any better, Camille, I’d think that I make you nervous or something.”

  I can smell her shampoo. It’s flowery. A strand of hair has slipped out of the bobby pin behind her ear. I brush it back. She looks up at me, her eyes full of longing.

  “In your dreams, Merriman. In your dreams.”

  She turns on her heel and walks towards the door.

  “Ms. Sanders,” I say. I exaggerate the Ms. part for effect. She turns around, her hand on the door. She looks hopeful. Does she want me to pull her into one of these bedrooms? Because I will. “You’re already in my dreams.”

  She actually laughs. “Settle down, Merriman. Head in the game.”

  “I can think of another place my head could be.”

  She’s the color of a fire engine now. I can’t help but stare at the blush that creeps down to her breasts.

  “See you on the football field,” she replies, tripping a little as she leaves the room.

  I’ve gotten to her. I’m under her skin.

  Soon enough, I’ll be all over it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CAMILLE

  I put Hazel to bed a little early that night. She doesn’t mind; she’s completely worn out from exploring the house all day with Eloise. She’s asleep before I’m even at the door.

  Sighing, I walk to my room. It’s weird to be staying in the place that’s essentially the same as it was when I left it in high school. But I can’t bring myself to sleep in my dad’s room, even though this house is now technically mine and I should take the master.

  It’s just too soon.

  I change into my bathrobe and squirt conditioner into my hands, rubbing it through my dry hair. I wrap the length into a messy bun and put a shower cap over it. I like the crinkling sound it makes as I adjust it.

  I walk to my bed and sit down, grabbing my phone and dialling Sam. I wait for the rings. Once, twice, three times.

  “Hey girl!” Sam says. “How are you holding up?”

>   I feel a surge of guilt as I realize she’s asking me how I’m holding up in light of my father being dead. And here I was only thinking about Blake.

  “Fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  I sigh. “Can I be shallow for a minute? My dad is dead but I need to be shallow for a minute. Just a minute, then I’ll go back to the role of grieving daughter with daddy issues.”

  Sam laughs. “Shoot.”

  “I met with the newest recruit today.”

  “Okay. Some hot chiselled beefcake, I hope.”

  “Sam!”

  “What? Just because you’re the owner doesn’t mean you can’t objectify men anymore. Who is he?”

  “Sam,” I repeat.

  “What?”

  “Blake Merriman is the new recruit.”

  Sam pauses. “I don’t know him. Who’s that?”

  “Blake. Blake. The Blake. Blake-Blake.”

  “Karaoke Blake?” I hear a sharp intake of breath. “Hazel’s father Blake?”

  “That would be the one.”

  “Whoa. Wow. Whoa. You’re serious right now?”

  “Sam, how could I make that up? It’s absurd enough on its own.”

  “Did you…tell him? About Hazel?”

  I pinch my eyes closed. I can feel a headache growing deep within my skull. I think back to Starbucks.

  “There was a screaming baby. He wasn’t amused.”

  “Where did you eat lunch where there was a screaming baby?”

  “It wasn’t lunch. I ran into him the other day at Starbucks and there was a kid there crying.”

  Sam pauses. “Hold on. You ran into your baby’s daddy for the first time in four years and you didn’t tell me until just now?” She takes a deep, dramatic breath. “I expected an instant text. I’m not sure we can be friends anymore with that level of betrayal taking place.”

  I grimace, feeling even guiltier. “Full disclosure?”

  “Of course.”

  “Starbucks wasn’t the first place I ran into him. I actually saw him last night.”

  “Last night?”

  “We…he was at the dinner. We ate together.”

  Sam was quiet. “Oh my God. You didn’t.”

  She’s reminding me why she is one of my best friends; she’s reading my mind without me having to say anything at all.

  “We did. It. We did it.”

  Sam shrieked. “You fucked him? You really did? Oh my God, Cami!”

  I have to hold the phone away from my hear to protect my hearing.

  “Don’t be excited. I feel terrible. He still doesn’t know about Hazel.”

  “Cami, you have to tell him.”

  I groan and lean back, the shower cap crinkling against my headboard.

  “I know. I know. It’s just that he hates kids. He said so,” I say.

  “It doesn’t matter. You have to tell him.”

  “He works for me now, Sam. He’s my employee.”

  Sam sighs.

  “You’re right. But you still have to tell him.”

  “I’ll do it this week,” I say to her.

  “Good. So. How did he look?”

  I blush against my will.

  “Incredible,” I gush with full honesty. “I think he wanted to fuck me today at the hotel where we had lunch.”

  “You were with him at a hotel and you didn’t jump his bones? Are you serious right now?”

  “It’s business, Sam. It’s just business. We can’t be together. This can’t happen. I’m his boss now. It’s against every single rule on the books.”

  “Now who’s being dramatic?” Sam asks. “Look, you’ve already had his baby. I think a little side fucking would be good for you. Especially with everything that’s going on, you know? You deserve some fun. You just became the head of a nearly billion-dollar empire. You went from driving a beater car to owning ten Maseratis.”

  “My dad doesn’t own any Maseratis. He’s a truck guy.”

  “Ugh, stop being pedantic! You know what I mean. You’ve gone from zero to hero like, overnight. And now the man whose baby you secretly had is back in your life. It’s like something out of a soap opera. I say, fuck him on the side and enjoy it. Nobody has to know. And then you can slip in somehow the fact that you’re his baby’s mama.”

  I groan again. “You give terrible advice, you know that?”

  Sam laughs. “It’s why you love me. If you want reasonable, call Amanda.”

  I pick at a hangnail. I desperately need a manicure. It’s another moment before I remind myself that I can actually afford one now.

  “You’ve been zero help to me, but I love you, Sam.”

  “I know,” she replies. “Send me pics of lover boy’s-“

  Knock knock knock.

  “Hey, I gotta go. Call you later.” I hang up the phone without waiting for Sam to speak again. “Come in!”

  Eloise opens the door.

  “Just wanted to check on you. I brought you your favorite.”

  She’s holding a tray with a ceramic mug on it. It has my name emblazoned on the top, and below that is a depiction of scenes from Fiesta Texas before Six Flags bought them out.

  “Hot cocoa?”

  “With freeze dried mini marshmallows. As much as you can eat.”

  “You opened up three packets of marshmallows, didn’t you?” I ask her with a smile. I feel like a little kid again.

  “I did indeed. Your father isn’t here to yell at me about it. He always hated that we’d run out of marshmallow packets before we ran out of the corresponding cocoa packets.”

  I laugh at the memory, taking the mug from her and sipping, crunching the dry marshmallows on top eagerly.

  “Just like I remembered.”

  Eloise pats my leg and sits down on the bed.

  “Are you going to be okay tomorrow?”

  I swallow and think.

  “As okay as I could be considering what’s happening,” I say.

  “Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come to me. I know it’ll be emotional seeing your extended family like this. It’s going to be a long day.”

  I close my eyes.

  “I know. And I’ll let you know if I need anything. I promise.”

  “Good,” Eloise says, standing up and adjusting the blanket. “I’m always here for you. You know that, right?”

  I nod.

  “Thank you.” Tears fill my eyes and before I can stop it, I’m sobbing uncontrollably.

  Eloise takes the mug from my hand and sits next to me, drawing my head to her chest.

  “Just let it out. Let it all out.”

  I do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  BLAKE

  “What’s the etiquette of picking up a woman at a funeral?” Josh asks me.

  He’s one of my new teammates. We trudge through the graveyard, both of us lost in a sea of suits. I feel like I might pass out from the heat as we all march to the burial plot, the pallbearers up ahead of us carrying the casket.

  “You could at least wait until the reception to ask a question like that,” I say.

  I spot Camille’s brunette hair a few yards ahead of me and realize I’m a walking, talking hypocrite right now. All I can think about is taking her back to my apartment, tearing that black dress off her body, and having her ride me into tomorrow.

  Josh adjusts his tie.

  “I’m just saying, man. The boss’s daughter was giving me bedroom eyes. I swear,” he says.

  I resist the primal urge to ram him into the oak tree we’re passing under.

  “She’s not just the boss’s daughter. She’s the boss. You can’t fuck the boss.”

  Josh flashes me a look.

  “You want her, too, don’t you?”

  I could stop right here and spend an hour telling him how she tastes, what makes her moan, what her body looks like in only the light cast by the skyline outside of a hotel window. But I don’t. I change the subject.

  “It’s hot as
balls down here. I’m not sure I’m going to make it through the ceremony.”

  Josh laughs.

  “This? This is downright balmy for a late summer’s day.” He checks his Apple Watch. “Ten twenty-two in the morning and only ninety-five degrees. You better grow a pair, Merriman. Texas doesn’t like weak humans.”

  The procession comes to an abrupt stop. I push my way as politely as I can into Camille’s eye line. She sees me and scowls.

  I wink and give her a grin.

  She blushes.

  Oh, man. This is going to be a fun day.

  The post-funeral reception is held at the Sanders’ mansion. I jostle through the crowd of mourners to find Camille, who is being hugged and cheek-kissed by every person who catches her eye. She looks frazzled but stunning.

  “Food is served!” Janet yells. She’s in a black suit and cowboy boots, once again.

  People clamor for the dining area.

  I seize the moment and make my way to Camille, who looks relieved to not be bothered by anyone.

  “Hey,” I say to her with a smile.

  She smiles at me.

  “Hey.”

  “You look like you could use a break from all of this. Want to take a walk?”

  She eyes me up and down.

  “I think you better leave your suit jacket here and roll up your sleeves. You might pass out from the temperature. You look like that guy in Broadcast News when he breaks out in a flop sweat on national television.” She giggles at her own joke and the sound reminds me of how much I love it when she laughs.

  I make it a goal to keep that going.

  “You’re right, I’ve already been told I’m weak and won’t make it here in the Lone Star state.”

  She laughs again.

  “I can’t believe you’re calling it that. Nobody calls it that, just like nobody from New York City actually calls it the Big Apple.” She crosses her arms, looking amused at the sweat pricking through my dress shirt.

  “You’re enjoying watching me be uncomfortable, aren’t you?” I ask her.

  I drape my jacket over a chair in the foyer and make quick work of my shirtsleeves. I even take off my tie, abandoning it with the suit jacket. I hold out my arm.

  “Milady,” I say.

  Camille rolls her eyes.

  “I can walk just fine without your assistance. Besides that, you don’t even know where we’re going.”

  She marches ahead and I try to keep my focus off her round ass. I nearly smack into a doorframe in the process.