Roughing the Player (Chicago Outlaws Book 2)

by Magda Alexander

  The hill she’s talking about did not look that big in the photos. But then, I wasn’t there.

  “Coming down, I tripped over a stupid rock and twisted my ankle. Now the rest of my summer’s ruined. I’ll be hobbling on these dumb crutches and this stupid boot for weeks.” She’s not normally a drama queen, but she is hurting, so it makes sense for her to vent her feelings.

  “Now, honey, that’s not what the doctor said. The boot might come off in a couple of days.”

  “I hope you’re getting your money back, because that camp seriously sucked.”

  “The camp director did mention I’d get a partial refund.” Makes sense since she didn’t stay there for the entire two weeks. She barely made it through four days. The GPS announces another turn ahead. Thank God it’s summer and still daylight because I would not want to be on these back roads late at night. When I finally reach the main road, I breathe an easy sigh. I’ll have to fight the Chicago congestion when we get closer to the city, but for now, the traffic’s manageable.

  The tension seems to drain out of Kaylee as she spends the rest of the drive on her cell texting with her friends.

  “Meghan says ‘Hi’. She wants to know when she can come over.”

  “Let’s wait and see, honey. You’re supposed to be getting some rest, and I’ll have to get you into your doctor’s tomorrow. Maybe Saturday?”

  “Okay.” Her fingers fly on her cell some more. At least there’s nothing wrong with them. Thank God.

  After what seems like forever, we finally pull into the garage. A frenzied scratching on the door that leads to the kitchen catches Kaylee’s attention. Her gaze bounces to me, eyes wide open. “What’s that?”

  With all my attention focused on Kaylee’s injury, I’d forgotten to tell her about Brock’s dog. “Butch.”

  “Who’s Butch?”

  Resigned to what’s coming, I turn off the ignition. “You remember Brock Parker? The football player my firm represents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, his dog’s staying with us.”

  “What? Why?” We’ve never had a dog, but Mama did. So Kaylee’s familiar with them. Of course, Mama’s was a Labrador Retriever who mainly sat around and scarfed up food. Butch is a lot more active, as I’ve found out during the last few days. He loves to play catch and tug-o-rope with the toys Brock dropped off for him. But with Kaylee being on crutches, it could be a recipe for disaster.

  “Butch needed a place where he could run free. Apparently, he didn’t get much of a chance at the dog kennel. And since we have a nice big backyard, I offered to take him temporarily.”

  “What kind of a dog is he? He sounds . . . big.”

  No wonder she thinks that. Butch’s scratching has turned into mad howls.

  “He’s a Pit Bull.”

  “You wouldn’t let me have a Yorkie because it’d be too much trouble. But now you bring a Pit Bull into the house. Those things are huge.”

  “He’s really gentle, honey.”

  “Mom. I’m on crutches. I’ll trip over him.”

  “You’re supposed to rest in bed, remember.”

  “What if I have to go to the bathroom?” The one full bath in the house can only be reached from the hallway. So she might run into Butch when she has to go.

  “If he becomes a problem, I’ll get a doggie gate. But grandma will make sure he doesn’t stray in your direction.”

  “Grandma’s here?” For the first time, her face lights up. Doesn’t surprise me. She’s always had a special relationship with her grandmother.

  “Yes. She’s watching him. It’s only for a little while. I promise.” I walk to the passenger side and help her to her feet. “Stay here. Let me make sure Butch is secured.”

  But when I open the door a smidge, Butch jams his nose into the opening and bellows a couple of big breaths.

  “Mama?” Where can she be? “Can you leash Butch?”

  I wait patiently until I hear her hurried steps. “Sorry, honey. Nature called.” She snaps the leash on Butch and reels him back, but Butch is super strong and he’s not obeying her.

  Oh, please God, let him go with Mama. I don’t want to have to call Brock and tell him this is not working out.

  “Butch. Sit,” Mama commands.

  Thankfully, he does.

  “It’s okay to open the door, Eleanor. I have him.”

  I slice it open until the space is big enough to walk through. And then I hurry back to Kaylee and help her maneuver the steps to the garage door.

  As soon as Butch sees her, he whines, straining at the leash.

  “Don’t you dare jump on me, dog.” Kaylee shoots him a death glare.

  As if by magic, Butch plops his entire massive body on the floor. Well, I’ll be darned. Reckon he knows Kaylee’s no one to mess with.

  “How are you, sweetheart?” Mama asks, embracing Kaylee with her one free arm.

  “Been better, Grandma.” Kaylee buzzes Mama’s cheek. “Thanks for asking.”

  “Why don’t we go to your room, so you can get off your feet,” I say. The sooner she’s on the bed, the sooner she can rest that ankle.

  “Okay.”

  Once I have her settled, I retrieve her duffel bag and bring it to her room. “You want me to unpack your things?”

  “Okay.” She must be in pain when she’s allowing me to go through her clothes.

  After I’m done, I turn to her. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “The doctor said you could take ibuprofen, right?”

  Her mouth scrunches. “I’m not doing drugs.” She’s always been careful about what she ingests. So it stands to reason she wouldn’t want to take something that might harm her.

  “Sweetheart, they’re not drugs.” Well, technically, they are. But that’s not what she means. “They’re sold over the counter. Anyone can buy them. And you already took them at camp.”

  “Yeah, the doctor caught me at a weak moment.”

  “Honey, you don’t wish to be in pain, do you, plus they’ll help you heal faster. Isn’t that what you want?”

  She shrugs. “I guess.”

  A scratch at the door interrupts us and she lets out a long, suffering sigh. “It’s that beast.”

  “He’s probably worried about you.” One thing about Butch. He has a sixth sense. Earlier in the week, I’d made a pit stop to deliver groceries to Mama. The incipient sinus headache that had skirted around the edges all day had become full-blown. After I’d taken my medicine and laid down on the couch for a few, he hadn’t left my side until it was gone.

  “How can he be? He just met me.”

  “He has a big heart, honey. Do you want me to let him in?” Sooner or later, she’ll have to make peace with him. If she doesn’t, he’ll have to go. And I’d really hate for that to happen.

  “Okay, but he can’t climb on the bed.”

  “I agree.”

  After I slice open the door, Butch advances into the room. He must know he has to be on his best behavior because he practically crawls in on all fours.

  “There. You’ve seen me. I’m fine. Now go away.”

  Rather than leave, Butch lies down on the rug next to her bed.

  “I think he wants to stay, sweetheart.”

  Her gaze cuts to me. “Whose room is it anyway?”

  “Yours, honey. He won’t hurt you. He just wants to keep you company.”

  “He better not eat something. Meghan’s dog ate the couch.”

  “Meghan’s dog is a Newfoundland, as big as their house. And Butch is very well behaved. Aren’t you, boy?”

  “Woof.”

  Kaylee’s lips twist. “He’s barking.”

  “That’s the way he talks.”

  She doesn’t appear to be the least convinced.

  “He’s really sweet. Wait and see. You’ll like him. I’ll feel better knowing he’s watching over you, especially when I’m not around.”

  Kaylee stops the pity party and her head jerks up.
“Not around? Are you going somewhere?”

  I’ll need to stick close to the truth; otherwise, she’ll smell a rat. “I have a work assignment which means I’ll be gone Monday through Friday. It should only be for a couple of weeks.”

  “That seriously sucks, Mom. I need you.”

  “Grandma will be here to watch over you, and I’ll be home on weekends. That’s not so bad, is it?”

  Right on cue, Mama knocks on the door. “Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

  She pouts. “It hurts, grandma.”

  “Well, I have something that will make you feel a whole lot better. Sweet tea and some peach pie.”

  Mama settles the tray on Kaylee’s lap.

  “Thank you, Grandma.”

  Mama drops a kiss on Kaylee’s forehead. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  I wait only long enough for her to take a bite of the pie and a sip of the tea before asking, “How about you take that ibuprofen now?”

  “Okay. If you insist,” she mumbles through a bite of the pie.

  “Woof.”

  “See? Even Butch approves.”

  She side eyes him when she swallows the ibuprofen, but she doesn’t protest.

  When she’s done with the food and drink, I carry the tray back to the kitchen where Mama’s cleaning up. “I’m going to stay the night, Mama. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Mama props one hand on her hip. “No, you’re not.”

  “Kaylee needs me.”

  “Chances are she only has a sprain. And all she needs is to rest and elevate her leg. If she needs anything else, I can handle it.”

  “I’m staying and that’s that.”

  “Honey, she’ll survive. And you need to do your job.”

  “Not tonight, I don’t. My daughter needs me.”

  “Hmph.” She turns back to the kitchen. “Stubborn as always.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Done wiping the counter, she swivels back to me. “Did you get something to eat?”

  “No. Kaylee wasn’t hungry.”

  She points to the stool next to the kitchen island. “Then sit, and I’ll fix you a plate.”

  “Thanks, Mama. Kaylee might want some as well. Let me check.” That peach pie is certainly not going to tide her over until morning. But when I peek into her room, I find her fast asleep, Butch right where I left him on the rug next to her bed. “Good boy.”

  He softly thumps his tail on the floor as he gazes at me with his soft, brown eyes.

  I lean down and pat his head. “You take good care of her while I’m gone.”

  His low “woof” seems to say, “Don’t worry. I got this.”

  Now if his master were only this compliant.

  Chapter 11

  Brock

  A WEEK OF LIVING WITH ELLIE is a special kind of hell. How could I have thought I could handle this arrangement? When I spotted her at O’Hare she’d knocked me for a loop, and at the Hilton, she’d taken my breath away. But when I bared my soul in my hotel room, she’d run away. And, of course, now she thinks I was playing her. Mainly because I practically told her, even though that’s the farthest from the truth. So I can’t blame her for keeping her distance.

  I told myself I could deal with it. After all, it would only be for a couple of weeks. But seeing her, smelling her, hearing her hum some tune while she drifts around the kitchen is driving me insane. I should have nixed the plan, but, damn it, my future’s riding on it. So, whether I like it or not I’m stuck here, slowly going insane.

  She has no clue how hot she is. Which is pretty much par for the course. She was pretty oblivious in high school as well. Not that I noticed at first. After all, we ran with different crowds. Me with the jocks; her with the nerds. But when she became my tutor, everything changed. Everything about her turned me on. The dark-rimmed glasses that shaded her luminous eyes. The long mahogany hair that fell across her face. The soft, pink lips that made me want to kiss her until she begged me to stop.

  Somehow, I’d managed to hide my attraction, until that stormy night when I couldn’t stop myself from putting my hands on her. And now years later, she’s turned me inside out again. I thought I could deal with it. But I just can’t. I may be older, but not wiser, at least as far as my raging hunger for her is concerned.

  Hopefully, I won’t have to live in this torture chamber much longer. Ellie’s realtor has lined up a couple of ready-to-move-in houses for me to check out on my day off. With any luck, I can do a quick close and move in within a couple of weeks. In the meantime, Butch is happily chasing squirrels up the tree in Ellie’s backyard. So everything’s under control. Except when I’m around her and sporting a permanent hard-on.

  Last night, I’d gotten a reprieve when she hadn’t come home. But, of course, I kept wondering where she’d gone. Who she’d been with. Hell. I can’t win. Damned if she’s here. Damned if she’s not.

  I open the front door to find her in the kitchen making dinner. She doesn’t appear her usual cheerful self. Maybe this crazy arrangement is wearing her down too. Or maybe, just maybe she misses her boyfriend. She never said she had a man in her life. But I can’t believe a woman as gorgeous as her doesn’t have a lover. Even with a young daughter, she should find time to date.

  “You’re here,” I say.

  “Where else would I be?”

  “You didn’t come home last night.”

  Her mouth goes tight-lipped. “I had somewhere else to be. And this is not my home.”

  Don’t ask. You’re not her keeper. “Where were you?”

  She turns off the fire on the stove and glares at me. “None of your business, Brock.”

  “None of my business?”

  “Yes. My life is my life. And you have nothing to do with it.”

  “Fine. I’ll be in my room.”

  All I get back is silence. Not even a “Good Night.”

  Just as well she stopped talking to me. With only two days before the Detroit game, I need to study their defense strategy. If I can get Ellie off my mind, that is. She’s looking downright fuckable in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that come down mid-thigh and toenails painted fire-engine red. God, how pathetic am I to be turned on by her damned toes?

  As soon as I reach my room, I strip and toss my clothes in the hamper before heading for the shower. I don’t need to get clean. I’d done that at the compound. But to make it through the night, I’m going to need a hand job. Otherwise, I’ll spend the night tossing and turning with a serious case of blue balls. But the quick release does nothing for me. Frustrated, I yank my hair, almost tearing off chunks by the roots. I need to find a new place to live. Fast.

  Butt naked, I slip into bed and grab my iPad to focus on the game tapes. Detroit’s tackle is the fucking size of a mountain, and a mean son of a bitch. Not only that, he’s fast and he’ll be rushing from my left side. Since I don’t want my head torn off anytime soon, he’ll need to be double teamed. I’m making notes on tactics when a faint sound reaches me. Someone’s rapping on the condo’s front door. Who the hell could it be? Except for Marty, no one knows where we live. I crack open my bedroom door and listen in.

  “Hi there.”

  I’ve heard that voice before. The turd.

  “Hello, Mr. Sheffield.” Why did she go and answer the knock? She could have ignored the idiot.

  “It’s Friday.”

  “I know. It comes around every week.”

  Laughter. “Did you forget my invite?”

  “No. I didn’t forget.”

  “We have a sex swing.” He says it sing-songy, like that’s supposed to tempt her.

  “Oh?”

  “And a latex mattress.”

  “Oookay.” She probably has no idea what that means.

  “A member of our club brought back an aphrodisiac oil from Brazil. When applied properly, she swears it’ll give you the Big O in three minutes or less.”

  “How very interesting.”

  Having heard enough from this slug, I s
tomp to the living room and swing the front door open wide. “I can make her come in two.”

  “Oh, my.” Warren’s eyes widen and the corners of his lips tick up. The little turd swings both ways, does he?

  “Martha’s not interested. So scram.” Reaching over Ellie’s head, I slam shut the door.

  She whirls around and slaps my bare chest. “You idiot!”

  “What?”

  “He saw you. In my apartment. What is he going to think?”

  “That I’m playing hide the salami with you. What’s the big deal?”

  “What’s the big deal? He knows about your orgy bed, your toys. And now he’s seen you. How long do you think it’ll take him to spread the news that the Outlaws’ new quarterback is living in a den of sin?”

  “Den of sin?” I croak. “I’m living the life of a fucking monk. Besides, he won’t tell. If that idiot knows anything about football, I’ll eat my shorts.”

  Her gaze cuts down to my groin, and her eyes grow wide. No wonder. I’m naked and sporting a super-sized hard-on. “Oh, wow.”

  Damn if my cock doesn’t grow bigger.

  Face flushed beet red, she says, “Maybe you should put something on.”

  “This is my place, and I’ll walk around any damn way I please.”

  She crosses her arms and shoots me a death glare. “I’m living here too, and I’d appreciate a little modesty.”

  “I’m going back to bed. Care to join me?”

  “No.”

  “See?” I spread my arms wide as I walk backwards. “A monk. That’s what I fucking am.” I slam the bedroom door behind me. Jaysus. I don’t know how long I can take this.

  By the time I leave in the morning, she’s gone. Good. Last thing I want is to see Ellie in those skimpy shorts. It’s Saturday, which means she’ll spend the entire weekend with her kid. Not that I’ll get time to enjoy the solitude. The team’s flying off to Detroit this afternoon.

  After a light workout at the Outlaws’ compound, the team heads to the airport. In the mood I’m in, I really don’t want to talk to anyone. I head for the back of the bus and stare out of the window, hoping whoever sits next to me gets the hint. But no such luck.