I barely contained the grin. “It’s true.”
She growled in frustration, then sighed when she realized how futile it was.
I did what I wanted, and I always had.
“Anyway, I came in here to tell you that the pizza place is like ten orders behind because they only have one car running at the current moment. Did you want me to order from the Chinese place that delivers instead?” she asked.
I could barely hear her over the water pounding down on me, not to mention the rush of blood that was currently causing me to be highly focused on my dick rather than the words that were coming out of her mouth.
“How about we go get pizza?” I suggested.
She made a frustrated noise.
She was weighing the pros and cons, and she wasn’t finding a way out of going.
“I can go home,” she paused. “Come back when your publicist wakes up?”
The hopefulness in her voice had me suppressing the laughter that was boiling in my throat. God, she’d do absolutely anything to get away from the situation she found herself in, that was for sure.
“I texted her before I got in the shower,” I lied. “What if she calls while you’re gone, and I don’t have all the information that you gave out? What if she has questions I can’t answer?”
She stomped her foot. “You’re so annoying.”
“I’ll wear a hat,” I offered. “Nobody will ever know that it’s me.”
Famous last words were those.
I knew exactly what would happen if we went to my favorite pizza place. Exactly.
Conleigh, on the other hand, was such a positive thinker, always going into everything with such a positive outlook, that she couldn’t see through the lie.
She didn’t think to question me, but she should have.
Chapter 6
I finally got eight hours of sleep. Sure, it took me three days to accomplish…but still.
-Conleigh to Linc
Conleigh
It was halfway through our pizza when the first person noticed us.
Now that I thought about it, it’d likely been even before that, but that particular fan had been the one ballsy enough to actually go out of her way and ask for the autograph.
I tensed as the fan came up to the table and stopped, her eyes shining with an inner light that showed that she really was a diehard fan.
“Can I have your autograph?” she whispered feverishly.
Linc was about to say no. I could see it written all over his face.
“Um,” I said, causing the girl to drag her eyes away from Linc. “Could you hang out and wait for us to finish dinner?” I asked, pointing to Linc’s piece of pizza that was halfway extended to his mouth. “He’ll sign whatever you want him to after he’s done eating. I promise.”
The girl winced. “Shoot, I’m sorry. I’ll just go wait in the booth by the door, okay?”
Then she was gone, leaving me and Linc looking at each other.
“That was nice of you,” he admitted, taking the bite of pizza he’d been about to take a minute before. “Some of the other players’ wives and girlfriends are really quite rude.”
“I’m not a girlfriend or a wife,” I muttered.
Linc shrugged one shoulder. “Not what I meant. It’s rude whether you’re my girlfriend or my sister. Normally, the manager does a better job at keeping them away from me.”
That was true.
Then what he said had me glancing at him. “What do you mean the manager normally does a better job at keeping them away from you?”
“Exactly that,” he answered.
I clenched my hands into fists. “Then you knew you’d be recognized, even with your hat?”
I wanted to smack him.
“Yes,” he answered. “But that’s also why I came here.”
I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest, giving him my best “I’m trying not to kill you” face.
“I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what happened,” I said carefully, trying to contain my anger. “I already dodged two reporters today, both of whom remembered who I was from back then, and I can already tell that this is going to get blown out of proportion. I don’t like being in the spotlight, Linc.”
Linc leaned back as well. “I realize that, but that is why I came here. I don’t like my shit out there any more than you do, honey. And the owner is a friend of the club. His son is in the club. He wouldn’t let the fans here get out of hand, and he won’t let them take pictures. You pretty much have to know this place, and who owns it, to even find the place and get in the door.”
He had a point. I hadn’t even known the place was there until he’d pulled up outside the entrance.
My shoulders slumped, and I leaned forward until my head was resting against the table as I groaned.
“I made a mess of things, Linc,” I said into my arms.
I felt a very big, warm hand land on my neck, and things inside of my body started to rapidly spring to life.
Any time that I was in Linc’s presence, things started to happen inside of me.
It was like my body just started to do things that I didn’t want it to do, and I had absolutely zero control.
I stayed there for long moments, allowing the steady kneading of the heel of his hand as it soothed the sore muscles in my neck. He didn’t pull away until I lifted my head after what felt like hours later, blinking at the brightness of the low hanging light that was directly above the table.
“I want to quit school!” I blurted.
He blinked at me.
“Then do it,” he suggested, not missing a beat.
I looked down at my hands that were folded across my arms on the table, studying each nail that I could see. They were kind of haggard looking.
I hadn’t had a chance to get my nails done in so long that I couldn’t possibly begin to remember when the last time was.
It’d been years.
“I want to get my nails done,” I murmured.
I thought I’d done it so softly that he hadn’t heard, because he didn’t respond. The music was beating softly in the background of our conversation, and there were quite a few people in the establishment, making a hum of quiet discussions thrum through the air as well.
But then he picked one of my hands up and brought it to my face, his large thumb sweeping over my middle finger. “Then get them done.”
He had an answer for everything.
However, life wasn’t that easy. One couldn’t just drop what she was doing and do what pleased her.
I shrugged, feeling my heart start to pick up again with my hand in his.
What was it about this man that affected me so much?
He was stunning, and he always had been.
The years that I’d known him had been kind to him. He’d aged, sure, but he’d matured and filled out in all the right places.
His beard, which had always been beautiful, had lightened, and I could now see just the slightest hint of bluish lights along the silky black on his jawline. His eyes, those beautiful eyes of his, had laugh lines at the corners.
And his lip had a new scar.
“That game was bad,” I murmured, my eyes never leaving his lip. “I thought my heart was going to fall right out of my chest when I saw you take that hit.”
He didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about because there was only one game in the last eight years that I could be talking about.
Over the course of Linc’s career, he’d been lucky.
But the one game in particular I was talking about was so bad that it’d forever be ingrained in my heart.
It was pre-season, and he’d just been traded to his current team.
His new team hadn’t really known him well enough yet, and they’d been playing against his former team, who he’d had a beef with since the first day he’d started playing for them.
He hadn’t gotten al
ong with the owner, a man that had been so strictly against all things biker and biker-related that he’d almost refused to allow Linc to play.
Unfortunately, the old owner had wanted to win almost as badly as he hated Linc, so his hand was pretty much forced.
But the moment he had the opportunity to obtain a player who could replace Linc James, he’d taken it.
Overall, it’d been the best move of Linc’s life.
However, it also meant that when Linc played his old team, he knew damn well he had to be on his guard or he might very well get hurt.
At first, it hadn’t been obvious to everyone else.
But, since Linc and I had been keeping in touch with texts and short phone calls when all this shit had started, I knew that Linc hadn’t had it easy.
Even when he’d told me that the time wasn’t right for us—which had broken my heart—I’d still been worried about him. I still watched every single game religiously, even if I had a big test to study for or I had to watch it at work on the TV in a patient’s room. My anger at him just giving up on us was tempered by my need to have him be my friend.
“Merriweather’s a dick.” Linc broke the silence and my thoughts.
Merriweather was a defensive lineman and in Linc’s old team owner’s pocket. Trevin Merriweather was a six-foot-five, three-hundred-and-forty-five-pound powerhouse who hit with the force of a Mack truck and took no prisoners. He hit Linc so hard during that game that he’d knocked Linc out cold.
Not only had he gotten a penalty for helmet-to-helmet contact, but he’d also gotten called for grabbing Linc’s facemask and throwing him to the ground. From there, the flags started coming from every referee like a ticker tape parade.
I’d been so upset at the time, seeing Linc’s still form laying almost brokenly on the AstroTurf, that it’d been almost impossible for me to think, let alone process what had been going on around Linc.
When Linc had gotten up, blood had begun pouring down his white jersey, soaking it and leaving me with a mental image that I’d never forget for the rest of my life.
Head wounds always bled profusely—I knew that. I’d been in my first semester of nursing school. But that knowledge didn’t matter since logic wasn’t prevailing at that time.
Despite being scared out of my mind, I’d called him…and he’d answered.
***
“Con?” I heard Linc rasp into the phone. “Are you okay?”
I gave a semi-hysterical laugh as I said, “You just got hit so hard that you were knocked unconscious, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”
He snorted, and I could hear him hiss in a breath. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh. I think my ribs are broken.”
I felt something twist in the pit of my stomach.
“Really?” I breathed.
God, I hoped he was kidding.
If he’d really broken his ribs, he’d be out for weeks while they healed, and that was exactly what his old team wanted since they both were in the running for a wild card spot that would take them into the postseason.
“No,” he hesitated. “I think. Just fuckin’ sore as hell. Goddamn Merriweather.”
Goddamn Merriweather was right.
If I’d been capable of taking down a three-hundred-and-forty-five-pound man by myself, and I’d been in the same room as that piece of shit, I would’ve done it.
Happily.
And I think Linc knew that, because he started to chuckle.
God, I loved his laugh.
How he could laugh when all I wanted to do was cry was beyond me, but my God, just hearing him made me feel a ton better.
Which it shouldn’t. He left me, not the other way around.
But…
“Owwww, fuck!” Linc hissed.
I felt something in my gut lurch at hearing him in pain.
“What?” I whispered furiously.
“I have to have stitches. They just gave me a local anesthetic. Dammit, my perfect lips!” Linc whined.
That’s when I started to laugh through the tears.
***
“I still can’t believe that you actually answered,” I murmured, shaking my head.
“I’d answer for you. Always and forever,” he promised, sounding sincere.
I looked at my hands and snorted. “Linc…”
“I would,” he promised.
And I believed him.
Really, I did.
But…
“If you really would answer any time that I called…why?” I asked in confusion. Then smacked my head with the heel of my hand. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”
I didn’t expect him to answer, but he did.
I didn’t expect to like the answer, either.
“Because, Conleigh Reins. I want to.” He paused. “And you’ve always meant more to me than just about anyone in this world.”
I felt my stomach somersault as I stared at him. “You left, though. You left. You told me that we weren’t ready.”
He looked at me for a long moment, and then shifted so that he was leaning forward and his face was so close that he could kiss me if he really wanted to.
I didn’t pull away from his closeness, and neither did he.
I just stared into those beautiful eyes that I’d never quite been strong enough to forget and waited for him to explain why he let us go. Oh, and hated myself for it.
I shouldn’t care why he left, or that anybody thought that I was having his baby when I wasn’t.
But I did care.
I cared if he was hurt. I cared if he got slammed by the media—again—for anything concerning me when it wasn’t true.
I just cared about him, and that wasn’t something I’d been able to stop feeling since he told me we couldn’t be an ‘us’ yet.
We’d barely gotten started—had gone nowhere beyond just friends really—when the night that would haunt me and my dating life to this day happened.
Chapter 7
Other people: gosh darn it. That hurt. Football players: motherfucking cocksucking asshole son of a douche, that fucking hurt.
-Linc to Conleigh
Linc
I knew exactly what she was thinking about without her having to say a word, because I was thinking about that night, too. The night that I told her we couldn’t be together. The night that I told her we could only be friends.
It’d been the night that I’d come home to visit my dad, needing some much-needed time away from football and all the bullshit that sometimes came with it. It was a massive party going on, and I’d just been made an official patched-in member of our a motorcycle club. Instead of celebrating like I should have been doing, I had a ginormous fight with Steel and my dad, and I wanted nothing more than to leave and not come back.
Well, at least for the night.
But Conleigh had told me she was on her way, and I told her to come up to my room when she got there, thinking I had time to get a shower and get cleaned up.
Only, she arrived a hell of a lot faster than I’d been expecting, and she’d walked in on me completely nude and sporting a massive erection that only came on when she was near.
We’d stared at each other so long that I’d half expected her to make the move I could see in her eyes.
I wanted her to.
She wanted to.
But then some commotion had come from the room next door, and we’d heard Steel’s voice through the thin walls, causing her to retreat.
I’d just slipped my pants on when my door was once again thrown back open and Steel had made his presence known.
“She’s not ready for you,” he’d growled.
And those had been the nicest words he’d uttered that day.
After making sure I was well versed in why I shouldn’t date Conleigh, my father had started in.
Then I’d gotten angry and acted out in frustration instead of the logical part of my brain that u
sually guided me.
After getting dressed, cut on my back that was sure to piss everyone off all over again, I’d walked straight up to Conleigh where she’d been hiding downstairs waiting for me, told her that I wanted her but couldn’t have her.
Her confusion had been apparent, but the longer I stayed to talk to her, the angrier that everyone got.
So, I left.
I’d left her.
But I’d also left myself.
Because I knew, without a doubt, that Conleigh was the one.
I wasn’t sure how I knew that. Wasn’t sure why. Wasn’t really even sure how it would ever be possible.
All I knew was that one day, the time would be right, and when that time was right, I’d be making my move.
“I know you hate me,” I murmured low. Soft. Barely loud enough that I wasn’t sure she could even hear me.
She pursed her lips. “That’s the problem, Linc. I’ve never been able to hate you. I’ve told myself that I should. But I don’t.”
***
Conleigh
I never could.
I’d tried very hard to accomplish that impossible feat, too.
I’d been mean to him. I’d ignored his calls. I’d avoided any and all interactions with the man…and look where that got me.
“I’ve ruined your life.” I moaned, pressing the heel of my hands into my eyes. “They’re going to go crazy with this.”
I expected quite a few things. A loud chuckle wasn’t one of them.
I peeked at him from between my hands and glared. “What do you find so funny about this situation? Because I don’t find anything remotely funny about it.”
His grin didn’t waver. “Come on. Let’s go call my publicist. But, just warning you, it probably isn’t going to be pretty.”
It wasn’t.
But, I did like the way he didn’t forget about his fan that’d been patiently waiting for him. I also liked that he gave her the selfie she’d asked for, but not once had he let go of my hand.
Linc didn’t look worried in the least.
Honestly, he looked downright happy to be sitting in his living room, making a call to the United Kingdom.
His publicist answered on the second ring, and the curses she greeted him with sounded almost regal in her stern British accent.
Talkin' Trash (The Bear Bottom Guardians MC Book 2) Page 5
