Sidelined: A Sports Romance (2 page)

T
he lights were dim
. Dim enough that I hoped none of the locals recognized us. Despite Stubbs’ cocky speech, I felt pretty safe invading Warrior territory on a Sunday night. There was a guy on stage singing something about a road trip he took. I stared at my glass of water.

Wes came up behind me and slapped me on the back. “Sticking to the hard stuff?”

“Yeah.”

He held up his fingers to the bartender. “Two bourbons, neat.”

The guy already had them poured before I could turn down the drink. It didn’t help that I had a reputation from my rookie season. It was like rushing a fraternity when I was drafted. I made damn sure the veterans liked me, especially Wes.

Wes grinned. “To tomorrow night’s win.” He clinked his glass against mine and kicked back the thick liquor. I didn’t have a choice. I swallowed it and felt the fire from my throat to my belly.

“That’s good shit.” He slapped me on the back.

“Thanks for the drink.”

He pointed to the bartender. “Another round.”

Shit, he was just getting started. I took the second round and it went down smoother than the first.

“I know where to find you tomorrow night, don’t I?” he asked.

“Hell, yeah. The end zone.”

Wes was part of the reason my numbers had broken so many records. He liked throwing to me. And it worked. We were a winning combination.

“Just keep open.” He winked.

“Shouldn’t be a problem with the defense the Warriors run.”

We both laughed. We had a right to be cocky and arrogant. We were defending national champions. We earned the fucking right to boast. Not only that, but any chance to take a crack at the Warriors, we took.

Wes’s eyebrows waggled. “Check that out.” He tipped his head and I followed his eyes.

A group of girls walked through the doors and headed for the bar. Every one of the Wranglers had noticed them. It was hard not to. There was no one else here and they were hot as fuck. Each one of them had long hair, killer hips, and a set of tits that we’d all like to get buried in. As they walked past our table, I could smell the expensive perfumes and lotions they wore. It was like walking past a makeup counter in a department store. My teammates’ heads had all pivoted in one direction.

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath.

“Fuck is more like it.” Wes chuckled. I guess I wasn’t that quiet.

I kept my ass planted on the barstool while most of the team saddled up to the bar, shoving each other out of the way to buy the first round of drinks. This was trouble. Every one of those girls was a distraction to my buddies.

Some of the guys had wives or girlfriends. Hell, some even had kids. But when a group of women like that walked in, they had the power to erase all memories.

“Not getting in on that?” Wes asked. We stared at our teammates.

“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’m focused on the game. Not getting a piece of ass tonight.”

I could tell he didn’t approve. “You threw one hell of a Dean last year.”

“Thanks.” At the time, it was my crowning achievement, but there was more going on now. I had stats to back up my reputation, and I needed even more to get that bonus.

“So why are you holding back now? Seems like your kind of scene.”

I leaned closer to him. “I have a season policy. Can we leave it at that?”

“Ahh, one of those fuckers.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

“You think you can only have fun in the off-season. I know the type. I just didn’t realize you were one of them.”

“I still have fun. I just don’t get involved with women. The game is more important.”

Wes stared at me. “No football player is that good. You start blocking out what’s around you, and you lose the game. You can’t act like there aren’t women on this earth for six months. Too much focus is bullshit, Sam. This isn’t baseball. Let those guys have their weird superstitions. Football players don’t do those damn things.”

“So you think getting shit-faced the night before a game and screwing some random girl is going to help us win tomorrow?”

He stood from the table. “Take my advice however you want. But I’ve been in the game long enough to know that extreme anything is never good.” He pressed his heavy hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Technically, the season doesn’t start until tomorrow, so you’re not breaking any rules tonight.” He slapped me once again and walked away.

I had to laugh. If anyone thought Wes Blakefield was the team leader who would mentor a rookie into taking the path of righteousness, they didn’t know the man. I’d probably never get that type of advice again in my career.

Most people would agree with me. Coaches would. Trainers would. But not Wes. He probably thought less of me now that I revealed why I was staying away from the women.

The singer started up again, and I looked around to see if anyone would notice if I slipped out. The guys were too busy talking to the girls. I could walk out now and nobody would give a shit.

I stood to stretch my legs. The door was on the other side of the bar. A red neon sign hung over the entrance that read
Warriors
. It was another reminder that I needed to be reading our playbook, not taking shots and buying pretty girls drinks. I could do that in February.

Our hotel was only a few blocks from the bar. I’d walk back, clear my head, then hit the book again. The way the guys were drinking I might be the only one who could hold my head up tomorrow.

I looked over my shoulder. Stubbs had his arm around one of the girl’s waists. Shit. He had two girlfriends back home, but that didn’t stop him. I shook my head and took a step toward the door. I wasn’t paying attention to what or who was in front of me.

“Ow!”

“Oh shit.” I looked down. I grabbed her arm before she hit the floor. “Sorry.”

I had plowed her over with one step.

“Watch where you’re going, maybe?” Her voice told me everything I needed to know about her before I even saw her face. She was strong-willed, opinionated, and not afraid to stand up for herself.

I helped her to balance on both feet. She smoothed the strands of hair that had fallen over her cheeks and tilted her chin. Her eyes lifted to mine and I swallowed hard.

Fuck. She was gorgeous. And not like the other girls. Every part of her was natural and flawless. I stared at her high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and long eyelashes. There was grace in her movements. Even her scowl.

She brushed her blond hair from her face. The rest was pulled back high off her neck.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking.” But I was now. I was checking out every inch of her. She wasn’t dressed like the others. It looked like she had run here from a yoga class.

She shrugged off my apology. “Sorry, I was a little rude. It’s fine.”

“Let me buy you a drink.” It popped out of my mouth before I could think about what I was saying.

She looked at me quizzically. “I’m fine, really. No damage done.”

“But I want to apologize. What do you like? It’s on me.”

She pinched her lips together and I noticed how lush and full they were. God, she was perfect.

She shook her head. “Really. It’s not that big a deal.”

“I insist.” I pressed my fingers to her wrist and heard a sigh escape those damn sinful lips of hers.

Her eyes flashed to mine. “All right. But only one. That’s all.”

“That’s all I’m offering.” I grinned. “Wait here.” I led her to the table where I had been sitting with Wes only a few seconds ago. “What’s your poison of choice?”

“Vodka tonic.”

“Got it.” I maneuvered toward the bar and threw a fifty in front of the bartender.

He poured a bourbon for me and a vodka tonic with a lime wedge for the girl. I walked back to the table. She shifted in her seat, and her loose shirt slid from her collarbone down her arm. Seeing a woman’s shoulder had never made my mouth water like that before.

She pinched the collar and repositioned it. “Thank you.”

I noticed how long and delicate her fingers were when she picked up the glass.

“It’s the least I could do. Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

I’d knocked bigger men than me to their asses at the line of scrimmage. It couldn’t have felt good when I rammed into her.

“I don’t think I’ll have any bruises.” She brought the edge of the glass to her mouth.

I didn’t know what in the hell I was doing. I was getting ready to take my third shot and I was sitting with the most gorgeous girl in the place. I couldn’t blame Wes for any of it. He may have planted an idea in my head, but I was doing this all on my own.

I had already started a countdown of how long I had until the team meeting, or if I pushed it back farther—kickoff.

After all, the season didn’t start until tomorrow.

T
his was unbelievable
. I waited at the table while Mr. Sex on a Stick bought a vodka drink for me. What was I doing? I could handle flirting. I was used to it. As a Warrior Goddess, I had more numbers crammed in my hand as I walked through the tunnel than a stripper had one-dollar bills. So why was I suddenly letting this guy with piercing gray eyes trap me with a typical bar pick up line?

He had no idea I was standing there when he almost knocked me to the floor. I was impressed how quickly he reached for me. With one arm, he had me on my toes. I was more enamored with his wall of a chest. Holy hell.

I wasn’t that kind of girl. I wasn’t that kind of Goddess. I waved at Heather. She was talking to some guy with a tattoo crawling down both arms. She smiled and her eyes went right back to him. At least someone knew I had arrived, and I couldn’t be blamed if we lost tomorrow night. I had officially fulfilled my Goddess obligation for the season. I had been on the squad for four months, and I still didn’t feel like it was home yet. I didn’t know that it ever would.

God, I was fed up with all of it. The traditions. The guilt. The embarrassment.

“How’s the drink?” he asked.

“Good.” I took another sip. Vodka had always been my go-to.

If Madame Collette knew I was drinking before a performance, she would have had me doing a hundred pliés to make up for it. My thighs wouldn’t let me do it again. The burn would be seared into my memory. Ballerinas didn’t drink. And they certainly didn’t hook up with random hot guys.

But she wasn’t here, and I wasn’t part of the troupe. No, I was on the dance squad. And this was what the Goddess dancers did.

“Are those your friends over there?” He motioned to the girls, who were probably on their third or fourth drink.

I nodded. “Sort of.” I used the little swizzle stick to push the lime under the ice.

“Would you rather join them?” he asked.

His question caught me off guard. I froze for a second. I could be over there talking about photo shoots and the calendar that was coming out before Christmas. I could talk about how much I loved to shake my ass in front of the fans. How much I loved being on the Warriors’ payroll. How I lived and breathed two things: football and cheering.

But none of that was me. I didn’t want to talk about any of those things, or be reminded that I was a part of the squad.

I looked directly in his eyes, trying not to be thrown off by his dark eyelashes. “I think I like it over here.”

“I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Natalia,” I replied.

“Pretty. Doesn’t sound like a Texas girl’s name.”

I didn’t know why that made me blush. “It’s not. It’s French.”

“French?” His eyes glazed with lust.

There was a moment when the walls fell away and I couldn’t hear the girls laughing. I didn’t hear the guy singing on stage, or the worst pick up lines in history. There was a moment when I felt connected to this complete stranger.

“Mmmhmm,” I responded.

“That explains some of it, I guess.”

I could feel the vodka starting to warm my limbs. “Some of what?” I was curious what he would say.

“Let’s see, I’ve known you what?” He looked at the clock on his phone. “Five minutes?”

I nodded in agreement. “Yes, I think so.”

“And in five minutes, I can tell you’re different. Just how French are you?” He narrowed his eyes as if he was pretending to be a detective.

I laughed. “My father is French and I grew up in Paris. That’s how French I am.”

“So you’d say that tips the scales past the fifty percent mark?” He chuckled and I could see how sexy his smile was. Rows of straight white teeth set behind a strong jawline. Was it the vodka or was he becoming more attractive by the second?

I tended to think the neon lights and the lone singer with the guitar had something to do with it too, but I couldn’t stop staring at his arms. He was ripped.

“Probably so. It doesn’t help that half my family is in Paris and I go back and forth to see them. I take it you’re a Texas guy?”

I needed to ask him a question before I launched into the sad story of my parents’ divorce. I didn’t know why I had already divulged so much to him. He didn’t want to hear about how I alternated holidays between Dallas and Paris. Or how much I hated moving here when I was seventeen. Texas seemed like an armpit after growing up in France.

“Born and bred.” He grinned.

“I think Texans are as proud of where they are from as Parisians are.” I withheld the rest of my commentary.

He looked over his shoulder and scanned the bar. No one was looking at us. It almost felt as if we were the only ones here, lost in a back corner.

He turned around. “I want to say something to you.”

I finished my drink. “Okay. What is it?”

“If this makes me sound like an asshole, so be it.” He paused. “But I’m not going to be in Austin after tomorrow. I travel for work. So I’m not going to pretend that I can call you, or that I’m interested in taking you to dinner.”

I inhaled sharply. My stomach fluttered out of control. Where was he going with this?

“What I am interested in is taking you back to my room.”

His voice was so low it was almost a growl. A growl that sent shivers down my spine and tingled through my legs. Holy shit.

“That’s forward.” I eyed him. “Extremely unexpected
and
forward.” I arched my eyebrows.

“It’s honest.” He kicked back the rest of his dark drink. I didn’t seem to have thrown him.

“No try-to-get-my-number and promise-you’ll-call in the morning?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not going to call you.” He eyes were set in a determined line.

I licked my lips. “Not even going to try to tell me you want to see me when you’re in town again?”

“Can’t do that.” He leaned toward me. “It’s not possible.”

My heart beat faster. This was unreal.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m either completely offended or completely flattered.” I think both described the emotions I was feeling.

He wrapped an arm around my chair. “Be flattered, darlin’.” His hand made a trail against my neck and down my arm until his fingers twined between mine. “It doesn’t get any more honest than this. I’m willing to break a rule of mine for this.”

“A rule?” I started to panic. “Are you married? Is there a girlfriend? Because regardless of how long you’re here, I’m not a home wrecker.”

“Whoa. Whoa.” He put up his hands. “There is no girlfriend, and definitely no wife.” He leaned toward my ear. “Tonight, there is you. Let’s go.”

“I didn’t say yes,” I whispered. But I was thinking it. Every part of me wanted to get tangled up with him for one night. This had to be the boldest offer I’d ever received. The guy was confident.

No one would know. He wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t hassle me into another night or break my heart because I expected something. He was fucking gorgeous and all he wanted was me.

“But you want to,” he teased. “Don’t think, come with me.”

What was there to think about? He was offering the perfect one-night stand scenario. The excitement mixed with the anticipation and muddled my thoughts. Logic had lost and my hormones took over.

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Then come on.” He pulled me from my seat and led me out of the bar. The warm night hit me in the face, but it didn’t knock any sense into me. I fell into step next to him, realizing just how tall he was.

For once, I felt petite next to a man. It was hard being the tallest ballerina in the troupe. I was lucky to find a dance partner who met me eye-to-eye. But Sam wasn’t like those men.

We walked for a block before he stopped.

“What is it?” I asked, wondering if he had decided this was crazy.

Without warning, he pulled me behind another bar. This one had a sign for open mic night. I could hear a guitar through the open door.

“Wh-what…”

But Sam’s lips were on mine and I threw my arms around his neck. His hands snaked under my shirt and I felt the roughness of his palms skim along my back. I moaned as he dipped his tongue inside my mouth. I could taste the sweetness of the bourbon on his tongue.

It wasn’t the kiss I was expecting. A kiss between strangers should be awkward and out of sync, but this wasn’t. His mouth moved over mine as I sucked and toyed with his tongue. Our bodies matched a perfect rhythm, pressing together. This man I had known for less than an hour didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt like my everything.

My back was against the wall and Sam filled my vision. My senses. My need for something more.

He broke away and I saw the lust fire in his eyes. He could probably see it in mine.

“I needed to kiss you,” he explained.

I was speechless, either from the kiss or the fact that he was reading my mind. I had no idea how much farther we had to walk, but I hoped it wasn’t that far.