Hook Up (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) (2 page)

“You too,” she told me, swaying her sexy hips as she headed out ahead of me.

That was one hell of a hookup.

T
hat was
one hell of a hookup.

If I’d known that jock I picked up was so good in the sack, I’d have gotten his name again. Too bad I wasn’t paying attention to a word he said when he approached me. I was too busy admiring his ruggedly handsome face, his wide, bright, mischievous grin, his broad shoulders, and those big hazel eyes framed in ultra-long lashes I’d never have even with mascara. After that my eyes had roamed down his body, taking in each well-chiseled muscle on his chest, stomach and arms. Arms that picked me up with ease and made me feel as light as a feather, which was quite the opposite, because by all standards of womanhood, I may have been short, but I was no waif. In fact I was pretty darned chunky.

My ass was massive, my hips were broad and my double-D breasts were too damn big for my just over five-foot tall body. I had a hell of a time finding clothes that fit me perfectly. Half the time, I’d stuff my fat ass into a size twelve jeans just so the waist wouldn’t pucker up in the back or cause me to look like I had a gut when it bunched up around my stomach. If I could manage it, I’d pay for custom made stuff, but that was nowhere near the vicinity of my self-assigned clothing budget of under one hundred dollars every quarter.

All I had going for me was a reasonably narrow waist, not bad legs and a decent looking face. As for my hair color, well that was a double edge sword. Some men loved it, others hated it. Personally, I never dyed it or put in highlights because it was the only thing I had left that reminded me of my mother. That and this car.

Thinking back on the big strong stud I banged in the men’s washroom, I remembered he had said something about Louisiana when he was giving his little speech to the crowd. That was where I was headed too. New Orleans was about to be my new home, and this men’s room escape with what’s his name, well that was me letting off some steam and mentally preparing myself for one hell of a long road trip and the next chapter of my life.

The truth was I was grieving. I had no one else in the world except my sister, who I wasn’t close to, and my cousin, who tolerated me at best. I was a loudmouth, I never backed down, and was easy to anger to begin with. Grieving made me worse. My back was up and my default setting was on the defensive. Everything would set me off. It was well and good that I knew this logically, but put me in front of the next person and I couldn’t rise above my behavior and see the lashing out for what it was. What I needed was for someone to call me on it. Kind of like a counselor, but strapped to my hip so they could tell me when I was slipping. But like I said, I had no one. And to be honest, who knew if a coach on my hip would help. I’d probably end up throat punching them eventually.

So this one-night stand kind of behavior allowed me to let off steam and gave me a bit of a release. It was exactly why I came to the bar with Cora-Lee, a friend from high school. And he was good enough to tide me over for a spell while I got myself together. At the moment, getting myself together involved packing up all my shit and getting the hell out of El Paso.

With the passing of my dear Aunt Alice three weeks ago, I was no longer welcome in the house I had known since the age of seven when my mother died. I never knew my father, so I had no idea if he was alive or dead, and I wasn’t about to start looking for him. He ran off before I turned two, which in my opinion was when I was most likely the cutest and cuddliest. If he didn’t want me then, he sure as hell wouldn’t want this potty-mouthed, feisty spitfire that I’d become at the ripe old age of twenty.

Last night, with whoever he was, that was a symbolic gesture to mark my goodbye to everything El Paso. And he was one hell of a hot sendoff.

So I was packed up and ready to move in with my sister. Moving to New Orleans with my belongings, which all fit in my piece of crap old car that I couldn’t even assign a single make or model, or even a fucking color. If I had to, I’d call it a Chevy-Ford. The thing was a silvery-blue 1998 Chevy Impala at one point. It had died one day, and one of my old boyfriends dropped in a one-point-six liter engine from a Ford Escort, which pretty much guaranteed the thing would never go above forty miles per hour. The power door locks and power window mechanisms on the driver and front passenger sides gave up soon after that, so another mechanic friend found me one green door and one red door from a local junk yard. Now the car looked like it would fit right in at that same junkyard or as a candidate for one of those
Top Gear
challenges. My only hope was that it wouldn’t give up the ghost until I was safely in New Orleans city limits.

At least I wasn’t a shopaholic. Somewhere along the line I’d learned to squirrel away almost every penny I’d ever earned or received as birthday gifts from Aunt Alice, God rest her soul. I had socked away a total of seven thousand, two hundred and fifty-nine dollars and seventy-five cents. I was sure that money could keep me going in New Orleans for at least a year while I looked for work, if I was responsible, and if my sister wasn’t looking for me to contribute a huge amount for rent every month.

This was it. I had cold cut sandwiches all wrapped up, a few bowls with fresh fruit, and bottles of water for the eleven hundred mile road trip. In a regular functioning vehicle, I could probably make this sixteen-hour drive in a day and a half. With this car, I’d be lucky if I got there in three days. Before I left town, I stopped to fill up on gas, drove to my cousin’s job at the factory where he worked, and gave him the house keys. He coolly wished me luck.

This could have been the last time I ever saw his harsh, mean, loveless face, and he didn’t even give me a handshake, a hug, or even a parting smile. He just turned and went back to work.

He was truly hard-hearted.

I still never could figure out why he despised me this much. Aunt Alice was the only thing we had in common. It was probably why I had no trepidations about leaving El Paso behind. Without my aunt, there was nothing here for me. So with my farewells all finished, my body fully sated, and my belongings all here with me, I left. I took Highway 375 South to the I-10 East, and I was on my way to a new beginning.

I just didn’t count on my piece of shit car completely dying on me before I even hit the off-ramp to Horizon City fifteen minutes later.

Well, fuck me.

“
M
a
, Caleb just said the A-word!”

“No I didn’t. She’s lying, Ma. She’s the one who said
asshole
right in front of the baby.”

“Caleb and Callie, get out of Chandler’s room with your vile language! Connor, go and make sure your sister and brother do as they’re told.”

“Keep it down, y’all! Darn kids.” I was partially hungover and going on five hours sleep when the sound of my younger siblings woke me up. Connor was my sixteen-year-old brother, Caleb and Callie were nine-year-old boy and girl fraternal twins, and Chandler was the baby. He was almost two. Hell, it was only eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. Couldn’t they have found some cartoons to watch or something, instead of romping up and down the halls outside my bedroom? It was times like these when I thanked my lucky stars that I didn’t end up living at home during my college years. That would have happened had I applied to the local University of Texas at El Paso. Thank fuck that I didn’t.

Christ, I needed every spare minute of sleep if I wanted to make the drive from here to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It was a sixteen-hour drive for a normal driver, but for my car, it usually took me around thirteen hours if I didn’t get caught speeding.

My car.

That was my baby—my own personal universe.

It was a souped-up, five-speed manual late model Ford Mustang GT, with 5.0 liter V8 engine that could push 480 horsepower. My ride was white with the eight-inch black Lemans racing stripes up the middle, leather bucket seats, fully loaded and with premium Shaker audio. My muscle car was fast, loud, and made for driving.

I loved my car. It was a special love I felt when the engine purred, and when I revved the engine. I became just like the star of an eighty’s show when I was behind the wheel or whenever I rolled up to the curb in it. It was also a chick magnet. The ladies would gather and make a point of ducking their heads in the driver side or passenger window to see the interior, most always giving me the perk of some fine cleavage to check out while I agreed with whatever they said. Oh, and stepping in or out of it always felt like time stopped, heads turned, and at the center of attention, I coolly moved in slow motion.

It was a thing of beauty.

Getting back to this morning, my plan was to leave at noon, only stop for gas and pit stops, and be home on Sunday sometime in the middle of the night. That would allow me to have all day Sunday and Monday to relax and prepare for the first day of Fall football camp.

Too bad the plan for sleep was royally fucked up on account of the pitter patter of siblings. And now they were pounding on my door.

“Shut the hell up out there, for crying out loud!” I shouted. That was me losing my patience.

“Chris!” Callie squeaked from the other side of the door. “Caleb’s got me by the throat… and I can’t…breathe.”

“Punch him in the nuts and he’ll stop,” I told her. She was my favorite of the twins. Caleb was a holy terror around the house.

“Callie, you’ll do no such thing,” my mother piped up when she finally stepped into the hallway, hopefully to get her brood of young’uns out of my hair. She pushed my door open slightly and popped her head in. “Chris, you’ve only been here a week and you’re riling them up, giving them these devious ideas.”

I sat up in the bed, bare-chested with the bedsheets covering me from the waist down. “She needs to learn to stand up for herself, Ma.”

“Not with physical violence.”

I shook my head. “Says you. Hey, aren’t you the one who mentioned she was only back at school for three days before some kid started bullying her? If she can stand up to Caleb, she’ll be tough enough to take on the school bullies.”

Ma wasn’t impressed. She ran a hand through her dark brown hair and her light hazel eyes narrowed at me. Every one of us kids got her hair and eye color. Dad was blond with gray eyes. “That’s just foolhardy, Chris. Anyway, are you sure you have to leave today? The kids are only hovering around your room because they miss you. You know how much they idolize you, especially Connor and the twins.”

“It’s sweet and all that, Ma, but I really have to go today.” She grumbled something about the fact that I liked driving here instead of flying. “You know it’s the only chance I get to get my car on the open road almost all year long. Plus I hate flying, Ma. Where’s Pops?”

“He’s at the Junction shop. He’ll be home tonight.”

My old man owned one of the largest auto mechanic and towing service chains in West Texas. There were five shops altogether. Two in El Paso and one in each of Van Horn, Fort Stockton and Junction. That kept him busy, and was the reason Mom needed help with the rugrats. She was home full time with them, but four kids was a big job for one person, especially with the age difference. Connor was at the tail end of his rebellious hermit phase and not in the least bit interested in communicating with more than one or two words at a time, let alone playing with kids. The twins were constantly battling, and the toddler needed to be watched like a hawk.

Pops kept nagging her to get a maid or nanny or housekeeper, but she was stubborn. She didn’t want anyone minding her babies or snooping through her bedroom dresser drawers. That was what she’d come up with. I couldn’t figure that shit out. Well, it was her bed and she was lying in it. Which I was just about ready to go back to doing. I ducked back under the covers and dragged the pillow laying beside me over my head.

“I need some more shuteye before I go…”

“And will you—”

“Yes, Ma. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”

“And Christmas?” she added.

“Yup.”

“Okay honey.” She pulled my door shut and I heard the muffled sounds as she chased the twins and Chandler downstairs.

I was close to dozing off again when my cell phone started buzzing like crazy. I tried to ignore it the first few times, but whoever was calling, they were persistent. A look at my phone told me it was Slade, Captain of our college football team, so I answered.

“What’s up, Slaughter?” I asked. That was Slade’s nickname.

“Not too much right this second.”

“Are you back on campus?”

“Dude, my folks live less than an hour away from the college. Hell yeah I’m on campus. When are you gonna make it back here?”

“Sunday morning at the latest.”

“Good. Get ready for a serious pub crawl. We’re kicking it off at the Old Mill and heading south.”

“Who’s going?”

“Everyone. Now get the hell up and start fucking driving, Texas.” That was the nickname my team had given me.

“Later,” I told him before hanging up and stretching out in bed for some more shuteye.

* * *

F
uck
.

The next time I opened my eyes it was almost two in the afternoon. I launched out of the bed, practically dove into the bathroom down the hall and showered in record time. My bag was already packed, so I got dressed and headed out for the customary farewell, except it needed to be done a lot more hurriedly.

My first stop was to Connor’s room. If I didn’t pay him a visit in his teen hideout, I’d probably never have seen him all week. I gave a quick knock before turning the door handle and walking in. This house had a standard open door policy, so we all knew to lock the damn door if we wanted any privacy.

“Sup bro?” Connor asked from his desk where he sat, pushing one of the over-the-ear stereo headsets back behind his ear so he could hear me. Smart kid. He had rearranged his room so his computer and TV screens were facing away from the door. This ensured no one could sneak up on him while he was up to his eyeballs in video games… or porn.

“I’m heading off.” I threw my car keys across the room to him. “Just remember you can only start it and back it out of the driveway onto the street. I don’t want to hear any talk about taking it for a spin around the block, ya hear? Pops is gonna kill me if he finds out from the neighbor again.”

He stopped whatever he was doing on the computer and got to his feet, tugging the headset all the way off. “All right, all right. Out the driveway and curbside. Got it.”

He managed a fist bump as he passed by me. “I’ve got first dibs on your ride when you make it to the NFL, bro. Deal?”

I followed behind him on our way downstairs. “Awww hell naw, kiddo. I ain’t giving up my baby. Tell you what. You start helping out with the twins or Chandler every chance you get. The first new ride I buy when I get a massive signing bonus once I’m drafted will have your name on it.”

“You’re just messing with me.”

“I’m dead serious.”

His eyes lit up real quick. “Yeah? So what kinda car are we talking about here? Mustang, Camaro, Charger?”

“Show me what you got in the way of child care skills and we’ll talk.”

He nodded and headed out the front door while I headed toward the ruckus on one section of the main floor.

“All right you little devils. Bring it in. Quick.” I dropped my duffel bag on the floor and scooped up little Chandler from his cordoned off area in the living room. “What’s Ma feeding you, little man? Crap you’re getting big. Next time I see you, you’ll have a full-on goatee.”

He repeated the word
goat
and gurgled. I guess that was his attempt at neighing. Caleb and Callie took a break from their bickering and each of them hugged me around the waist.

“When are you coming back home, Chris?” They asked in unison, looking up at me with those pleading eyes, looking all innocent. Which they were not.

“Just in time for turkey day.”

“Awww. That’s months away.”

“Yeah. Tell Ma she can load you all up in her SUV and bring you to one of my games. Or better yet, she can fly everyone in. You hear that, Ma?” She was in the kitchen blending up something, so she probably didn’t hear me. I put Chandler back in his play area and went to find her in the kitchen.

“Hey Ma.”

She turned from her spot in at the counter where she was blending fruit for smoothies. “I wish you didn’t have to go so soon, love.”

“Me too. You should fly out with the kids for a game.”

“I may just have to do that.” She wiped off her hands with a tea towel and came over to me, pulling me in for a long hug. “Seeing you for four to five weeks a year just isn’t enough, honey. Awwww, I’ll miss you.”

“Me too. Love ya, Ma.”

“You’d better go before I change my mind and make you stay, son. I’m no good at goodbyes,” she part-whispered, blinking back some tears that were forming in her eyes. “Those Tupperware dishes on the counter should have enough food and fruit for the trip. Oh and grab the bottled water and sports drinks I put in the freezer for you last night.”

I grabbed the items and gave her one last hug before I left. “Take care, Ma.”

“You be sure to drive safe out there. And if you have time when you hit Junction, stop by and say hi to your father, will you?”

“I’m late already, but I’ll try. Bye Ma.”

Connor had my engine running and the trunk open on the street when I made it outside. “Don’t forget what I said, bud,” I told him, throwing my duffel bag in the back and walking around to the passenger side to place the food on the floor.

“I’ll do it. You’ll see.”

“I’ll make sure Ma’s got you in her good books.” I gave him a brief man-hug before getting in the driver seat. “Later, Connor.”