Scoring Her Heart Read online

  “Because I can’t date employees of Owens PR Firm, that’s why.” Okay, so it’s not a policy in place for me because I don’t work there, but Finley would have my head if I dated an athlete.

  “Don’t believe what they say about him in the press, honey. He’s a good guy.”

  Intrigued, I play smart. “Yeah, but what about that time he—”

  “Prank. A couple of teammates sent strippers to his hotel room for his birthday. There’s no actual evidence that he slept with all three of them.”

  My eyes do that rapid blinky thing... because three in one night sounds like something my sister has complained to me about in the past. “How do you know this?”

  Nolan flushes. “Because Dallas is Sarah’s number-one hall pass.”

  “Her what?”

  “You know—the three people you can sleep with if you ever have the chance because there’s no chance of ever meeting them.”

  “But the Renegades are here. Your wife could actually meet Dallas,” I point out.

  “Not if you date him.”

  I make a noise of disbelief. “You want me to go out with him so Sarah takes him off her list, don’t you?”

  “Sarah loves you, so any men you date would automatically be stricken from her list.”

  “I can’t.”

  Nolan gives me a pleading look. “Think about our children, Paige.”

  “Y’all have dogs.”

  “They’re our four-legged children.”

  I shake my head and hold up my hands, palms facing out. “You’re insane, and this conversation is over. He’s off-limits and based on the crap you just shared, there’s no way I’d go out with him. Athletes are players and attention-seekers.” And a lot of other adjectives Finley uses to describe them when she has to clean up their images. Adjectives that aren’t nice at all. In fact, I’d call them pejoratives.

  Nolan raises his brows. “All of them?”

  He has me there. “Quite a few of them or my sister wouldn’t stay so busy putting out their fires.”

  “Excuse me,” Dallas says, and my blood rushes from my face and then back to it.

  Oh, no. Had he overheard our conversation? Should I apologize? Play it off or—

  Nolan starts to sputter, and I start to wonder if in fact Nolan is the one with the crush, not Sarah. “Dallas Drake... how’s it hanging, man?” His voice breaks on the last word.

  “Real good,” Dallas replies. Is that resignation in his tone? “Thanks for asking.”

  Ever so slowly, I start to inch away.

  “So, Paige, about that date—”

  The main phone rings.

  I freeze, then my brain kicks into gear. “Have to answer that. Nolan will take such good care of you,” I say in a rush as I power walk to the phone, answering it with a cheery hello.

  No one replies, but I stay on the phone while Nolan and Dallas talk, feeling guilty but confident in my first response to his invitation. Finley would kill me if I went out with Dallas. Since I was thirteen, she’s been drilling it into my head that athletes—football players in particular—are a pain in the rear. Since she was the older and wiser, twenty and a college student, I took her advice to heart and avoided them at all cost. Easy enough to do as I was the nerdy girl, instead of the cheerleader, and I spent all my time studying rather than dating. That was something Finley would fuss at me for, too.

  She still does, even though I’m twenty-six now and she’s thirty-three... and single herself. I love her anyway.

  Dallas looks over Nolan’s head, his eyes roaming over me. My body heats in response. It sucks to be so attracted to a man who’s an automatic pass.

  Worse, it’s going to suck even more when I ask Finley about him and learn that Mr. Charming is really Mr. Douche. Then again, maybe that will make it better.

  I grip the phone tighter, mouthing the lyrics to Sam Hunt’s latest.

  Nolan slaps Dallas on the shoulder, then walks away to help Barney collect his things.

  Suddenly, Dallas’s eyes crinkle as the corner of his mouth lifts. Raising his brows, he silently sings along to the chorus.

  Busted.

  My cheeks heat, and I shrug apologetically. “I’m on hold.”

  “Sure you are.” Dallas nods a little, but he knows I’m full of it. Then he strides to me, and my heart flips again. He’s like poetry in motion. Fluid and full of grace that no man his size should command. At the last second, he stoops down and picks up something off the floor.

  “You dropped something.” Straightening, he holds out a piece of paper. Automatically, I take it from him.

  My gaze drops. On the scrap of paper is a number. His number. “When did you write this?”

  He gives me a cocky grin. “Barney isn’t the only one with magic hands.” Then he walks away, humming the song that’s now stuck in my head.

  CHAPTER 2

  Dallas

  I don’t know a man alive who can resist the sexy librarian fantasy, but I have to at the moment. I don’t have the luxury of thinking about Paige and her blue eyes, honey-colored hair, and luscious lips.

  All right, so I do have the luxury, but it’s because I need to focus.

  “Thirty seconds,” Kelly, the team’s trainer, announces. He stands there with a clipboard and a stopwatch. He likes to think of himself as old school. I like to think of him on vacation because it means I get one, too. “Move it, Drake.”

  With a growl, I bang the sledgehammer against the tire harder and faster, my arms burning with each subsequent swing.

  “Squats. Last round,” Kelly shouts.

  Tossing the sledgehammer to the side, I get into position and wait for the torture that’s to come. Kelly’s a masochist, but in the end, I appreciate it. He makes me stronger and makes me look good for the camera.

  Sam Riley and Aiden McHugh flank me on either side. It’s always like this for us, me in the middle, since I’m friends with them. Only, I have to be like Switzerland since Sam is gunning for starting quarterback and Aiden is pissed off because Sam is an actual threat. This means that Aiden is constantly on Sam’s ass and Sam—the most levelheaded, good-natured football player in the league—takes it in stride.

  It also means I have to play mediator, or like I’m their fucking father with two kids who haven’t figured out they’re playing on the same side.

  “Time! Ten laps around the track and then hit the showers,” Kelly growls, and I want to kiss the son of a bitch. He’s been extra hard on us these past couple of days, but once the season starts, he should back off a little. By little, I mean ten minutes less of working our asses off for him.

  “Fumble another ball, Riley, and Coach will send up Striker instead,” Aiden says.

  Sam grins, easily passing us on the inside lane of the track as he says, “Thanks for looking out for me. I’ll do better next time.”

  “To be twenty-four again.” I nod at Sam’s back, then glance at Aiden, whose mouth is set in a thin line. “If you actually took the time to groom the kid, he’d probably leave next year for another team.”

  “Maybe, or he’d use everything against me,” Aiden says tersely.

  “Sometimes, you gotta take a chance.”

  “Says the perpetual party boy.” Aiden rolls his eyes. “How about this—you take a chance on growing the fuck up and I’ll take Junior under my wing.”

  His challenge gives me a burst of speed, and I finish a couple of seconds before him. Panting, I walk another lap with Aiden at my side. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Stop partying. Find a woman and settle down.”

  I make a face. “Get married?”

  “Nothing that serious. Just... how about trying to be a one-woman type of guy? Have an adult relationship instead of hooking up with jersey chasers.”

  “Those are very adult relationships,” I counter with a smirk, even though I’m not opposed to giving the one-woman thing a try. That’s always been a goal of mine—find a nice girl to settle down with, have a couple of
kids, and eventually coach in the NFL. My parents are still together, and they’re pretty damn happy. So, it’s not something that’s alien to me, just a goal that is years away from being accomplished.

  “You know what I mean.” He gives me a shit-eating grin. “But if you can’t handle the challenge...” He shrugs.

  I grab his arm. “I can handle it, but you have to uphold your end of the deal. I find a nice girl to date, and you’ll help Sam with his passes.”

  “Done, but I have to meet her over drinks or dinner... some shit that proves she’s legit.”

  “Then I want to be there when you help Sam. Make sure what you’re doing is legit,” I say, tossing his words back at him.

  His jaw works, but he nods tersely. “Deal.”

  We shake hands, then I pause. “What do we win?”

  Aiden cocks a brow. “Nothing. We’re both fucking losers to agree to do this in the first place, but I was bored.”

  “Not me,” I disagree. “I always come out on top.”

  * * *

  As soon as we get to our lockers, I get my phone out on the off chance that Paige actually texted me.

  No dice. Shit.

  Looks like I’ll have to go back there and ask her out again. A librarian would fit the bill of a nice girl... unless she’s into some secret kinky shit—not that I’m opposed to kinky, but there’s kinky and then there’s ball-gag, drawing-blood kink that I’m not into. No desire to have that done to me, or to do that to my partner. I like my kink on the vanilla side. A good, old-fashioned fucking between two horny people never hurt anyone.

  Aiden grabs the phone from my hand. “No jersey chasers.”

  “Wasn’t talking to one.” But there were messages from a few of them. Yeah, I break the so-called cardinal rule by giving them my number, but I can’t bring myself to be that guy. The one who pumps and dumps. Uses and cruises. I like women too much to treat them that way, and the few I do talk to are women I enjoy spending time with during the season.

  “No Tinder hookups either,” he adds.

  “Are you my fucking mother?” I snatch my phone back. “Stop touching my shit.”

  Aiden doesn’t bother to answer me. He strips and heads to the showers. After a couple of seconds, I do the same. It takes me less than thirty minutes to get cleaned up and dressed.

  Sam stands by my truck. “Can I get a ride?”

  “Your truck still in the shop?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yeah, engine needs to be overhauled.”

  Any other guy would be suspicious of a mechanic saying a two-year-old F-150 needed that much work, especially considering the dude was the one to sell it to him in the first place... but not Sam. Must be something in the water in Kansas to make them so... trusting.

  “Mind if we stop at Cabo Grill for dinner?” I already know the answer. He’s as perpetually hungry as I am, probably more so.

  “I’m buying.”

  “That’s why you’re my favorite second-string quarterback for the Renegades.” I unlock my truck, and we climb inside.

  “That’s mighty specific, but I’ll take it.”

  As soon as I pull out of the parking lot, I crank up the radio, but Sam leans forward and turns down the volume. “Are you really going to date some unsuspecting woman to force Aiden to work with me?”

  Swear to—this kid is like my conscious or something. “Yeah, but I will be completely up front about it.”

  “I don’t think that will help much.”

  I shrug. “The truth hurts, but it also sets you free.”

  “I guess, but you really need to be careful with a woman’s heart.”

  I slice my gaze to him. “Listening to John Mayer again?”

  “Guilty as charged.” Sam doesn’t sound guilty at all. Dude loves him some Mayer. “Do you have someone in mind? If not, I can set you up with one of the ladies in my Bible study,” he adds in a rush.

  “Thanks, but no thanks.” That’s all I need, a southern belle in the Bible Belt who’ll want me to stop cursing, drinking, and manwhoring—although, I’ll concede that the manwhoring has been over and done with for a couple of years now. Yet, Paige had an unmistakable southern drawl. My Michigan ears picked it right up and enjoyed the hell out of it. “I do actually have someone in mind. Met her earlier today, in fact.”

  “Really?”

  I nod, thinking of the way Paige looked at me. First with annoyance when she caught me staring at her tits, then later with warmth when she realized I wasn’t a douche. The fact she didn’t recognize me was... nice. Weird, but nice. Rarely do I meet women around here who don’t know who I am, even out of uniform, thanks to an underwear ad campaign for Ralph Lauren that went viral.

  “She’s a librarian at the Franklin-Hayes House in Wake Forest. I stopped by there to check out their event facility for Night to Play.”

  Night to Play is a fundraiser I put on three times a year to support the foundation I started my fifth year in the NFL to benefit kids with special needs that require therapy, surgery, and treatments.

  While I publicly made a name for myself to keep the team in the news and the endorsements coming by earning the reputation as an up-for-anything type of guy, I privately supported the charities that had helped our family when my brother was suffering through chemo treatments in order to kill the leukemia that was killing him... and we had exactly shit to pay for the medical care he needed.

  “Light hair or dark?” Sam asks, making me wonder where in the hell he’s going with this.

  “Kinda in-between. Like the color of honey you can buy at the farmer’s market.”

  “Nice smile and blue eyes?”

  “Yes and yes.” Annoyed, I glance over at him again. “You know her or something?”

  Chuckling, he shakes his head, but it’s clear he does know Paige. “Obviously, you don’t know who she is.”

  “She had no clue who I was either, until her coworker spoiled it,” I grumble. “Cockblocked me, too... but seriously, do you know Paige?”

  “Let’s put it this way... every time we see Finley Owens, we’re only separated from Paige by one degree.”

  “They’re roommates?”

  “No, try again. Think related.”

  “Sisters?”

  “Ding. Ding. Ding.”

  Running a hand through my damp hair, I groan. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

  “Guess you’ll have to find a different nice girl to date,” Sam says, a smile in his voice. “Finley won’t go for you chasing after Paige. She’s got a firm rule in place about dating anyone who works at the firm.”

  “Paige doesn’t work there.”

  “That you know about.”

  “True. Guess I’ll have to find out myself.” I never could resist a challenge or forbidden fruit... and to date my PR manager’s sister is pretty damn forbidden. Finley will have my nuts if anyone tells her. I picture Paige as she walks away from me, hips swaying in her tight black skirt. Worth it. “I plan on asking Paige out as soon as I see her again.”

  “Your funeral.”

  “Is that a threat or a warning?” Could the baby-faced, aw shucks guy beside me already have his sights set on Paige?

  He laughs again, irritating me and making me wish I hadn’t given him a ride home. “No. It’s a fact.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Paige

  Layton waves to me from an outdoor table for two, situated outside our favorite bistro. It’s close enough to the library that we can walk and work off the calories from their signature dish, homemade bacon mac and cheese. Since Layton is working from nine to two, I’m working from two to six, and Layton has dinner with her fiancé’s parents this evening, this will be the only time we get to talk.

  “Already ordered,” she says, giving me a sunny smile. “And I asked for extra bacon, only for you.”

  I playfully narrow my eyes at her as I sit. “Brownie points achieved, but I’m still slightly aggravated with you over the handcuff incident.”

  “Oh,
please.” Layton rolls her eyes. “You should be thanking me.”

  “Nolan already told you, didn’t he?” I ask. Swear that man gossips more than Layton and I do combined.

  “He might have, and he might still be upset that you didn’t say yes to the player.”

  “Lord, please tell me that’s just something you made up and not Dallas’ nickname.”

  She shrugs a dainty shoulder. “Who cares about his nickname—it’s not like you have to worry about calling him that.”

  “Too bad you weren’t home last night to find out what I did call him.”

  “But I’m here now.” Her phone rings. She gives me an apologetic smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to take this. Wedding planner.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Go on, I don’t have anything to talk about.”

  “You’re a peach, Paige.” Her southern drawl is so pronounced that even I can hear it. “Don’t worry, I can’t wait to hear all about your plan to finagle another invitation out of Dallas.” She’s a wily one, all southern charm and bouncy curls that encourage everyone to trust her.

  Yes, I’m a southern girl, too, and proud of it. However, what most people don’t know is that there are degrees of southern. While I’ve got the manners, the accent, the love of country music, and the occasional monogram on my purses and clothes... Layton is a Lily Pulitzer-wearing, sweet-tea drinking daddy’s girl who rushed Delta Zeta Lambda in college, and always wears her great-grandmother’s double-strand pearl necklace, no matter the occasion.

  She’s also completely comfortable in her own skin, knows what she wants out of life, and is well on her way to marrying her childhood sweetheart so they can have two-point-five kids and a dog, with a house near the country club.

  I might be a little jealous.

  Okay, so I’m a lot jealous because while I love my job... I have no idea where my future is going. I have no dates, and the only guy who has bothered to ask me out in the past eight months is so forbidden he might as well live in the Chamber of Secrets.

  The server brings our dishes to us, and I dig into my mac and cheese while Layton discusses table centerpieces.

  “Aw, he did?” Layton touches her cheek and sighs dreamily. “He is just the sweetest. Yes, I do know I’m the luckiest woman in the world. Thank you, Tiffany.”