Second down fake norwalk.., p.13
Second Down Fake (Norwalk Breakers Book 2), page 13
“I thought I’d lose,” I admitted. “I didn’t trust my raw talent.”
He shook his head. “Raw talent. Next time, I’m knocking your handicap down to one stroke.”
Diego finished out the hole, losing by a single stroke. We gathered up the discs and made our way back to the car.
“I want to shower before we go out. Get any invitations to any restaurants?”
“My publicist didn’t mention any. We might have to fend for ourselves,” I joked. “You know, if I’d known fame and fortune was as easy as dating an NFL player and getting on the Jumbotron, I would have dated Trent years ago.”
Diego’s easy smile morphed into a frown, but he wiped it away. “I’m not letting you provoke me.”
“You’re not? Lame. I’ll talk to Trent about it tonight. Maybe he needs someone next season once you throw me over for an NDA and a shockingly huge contract. I know there were two copies, but it was a stack.”
“I’m not just hanging out with you because of a contract, Cassandra.”
My body heated at the way he said my name and I retreated to solid ground. “Right, you just enjoy losing disc golf to me.”
“And buying you free drinks,” he added. “I’ll even throw in dinner. I think I can get us into somewhere.”
“Good. Want me to meet you there?”
Despite not being his actual girlfriend, Diego had ferried me to every fake date so far, and the commute between his house and mine took him straight through the worst of Norwalk’s traffic.
He slung his bag into the trunk of his car and pointed to a second bag in the trunk. “I actually keep a change of clothes back here, if you don’t mind me using your shower.”
“It’s not technically my shower, so sure,” I said, ignoring the way my body heated at the idea of him in my shower. I clearly needed to get laid if I wanted this fake dating thing to work out for the next two months.
“And while we’re there, you can pack some things to keep at my place.”
I lifted an eyebrow as he shut the trunk door. “Excuse me?”
He leaned against the trunk, folding his arms over his chest and exhaling. “You can’t keep sneaking away from my house in the middle of the night. What would people think?”
“What people? I thought no one knows where you live.”
The edge of his lips hitched up. “What if they found out?”
“I promise I won’t doxx you, but if you think you need to publish your home address just to keep me from slipping out, fine.”
He reached out, brushing his thumb over my hip and pulling me closer. I kept a smile off my face as I shuffled closer. He cupped my chin with his other hand, and I winced, hating how good the attention actually felt, how good he felt.
Screw it. I rested my cheek against his palm.
“We need to make this relationship look real,” he whispered almost conspiratorially, as if at any minute, a cadre of photographers would pop out of the bushes. Like we hadn’t just played disc golf for hours without a single interruption.
“I think you’re just trying to get me to spend the night at your house.” I closed my eyes.
“Maybe,” he admitted, sending a jolt of desire down my spine. His thumb brushed my lips, and I held back a moan. This was a mistake. Being around Diego in general had always been a mistake. I knew it the first time we met, but I got away. This time though…well, escape wasn’t exactly an option. “Or maybe someone’s watching us right now.”
“Liar,” I said, not daring to open my eyes.
He leaned forward, his breath hot on my cheek. I leaned closer, desperate for just a little more contact.
“We shouldn’t take any chances.” His lips brushed mine as he talked, too far away for any actual contact, just the faintest promise. His voice called me closer, waiting for me to lean in. Waiting for me.
I opened my eyes, catching the glint of his smile, and pushed him away. “You asshole.”
“You wanted to kiss me though, right?”
I rolled my eyes as I took a step back and steadied the rapid thrum of my heart with a fist to my chest. “Of course I did, you jerk. You were giving me your sexy bedroom voice.”
“You think my bedroom voice is sexy?” He shoved his hand in his pocket, digging out the keys as I rounded to the passenger seat, cheeks beet red.
“You’re awful. Completely unsexy.” I slipped into the seat, fumbling to secure the seatbelt.
“But I think we’re even now.”
“Even?” My jaw dropped as he started the ignition. “That was dirty. You aren’t playing fair!”
“Playing fair?” He tousled his hair. No one being that annoying should look so sexy. “What part of wearing Trent’s jersey was playing fair?”
“You played the best game of your career!” I said, not entirely sure that was the truth. It sounded good, though.
“I nearly started a fistfight on the sidelines. Do you know how happy you made Trent? I can’t have that on my team.”
“Trent’s happiness is a deal breaker for you?”
“That wasn’t really what I was getting at.” Diego’s voice dipped before he shook his head and pushed the car into drive. “But sure, let’s go with that.”
Diego’s deep vibrato echoed from the bathroom, and I rubbed off an errant swipe of emerald eyeshadow off my eyebrow.
“Calm down in there, Liberace,” I yelled, searching the coffee table for makeup remover.
I’d hastily thrown the scattered make-up on the bathroom vanity into a bag so Diego could take a shower. Apparently, the make-up remover hadn’t made it into the mix. Of course, if Diego wasn’t so distracting, I wouldn’t need it.
“I like to think of myself as more of a Pavarotti than a Liberace,” Diego called back, his voice clear even through the closed door.
“I don’t know what that means.” I dabbed a cotton pad into the cup of water on the side table and wiped off the eyeshadow.
“More substance, less show.”
“I don’t know. You’re pretty show-y.”
“I scored four touchdowns last game.”
“And boxed out your best receiver. That’s a Liberace move.”
His deep laugh echoed from the shower, and I smiled. “I’m getting a drink. Want one?”
“A beer would be great,” he said before launching into a truly ear-piercing rendition of “Time To Say Goodbye.”
I rolled my eyes and padded into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the otherwise empty refrigerator.
The sound of pounding water stopped as I searched the drawers for a bottle opener. Diego rustled around inside the bathroom, and I poured myself a drink, keeping my thoughts on making my drink and not the naked god in my bedroom. The one who pretended to date me with an NDA and a contract.
“I’ll take that.” Diego emerged from the bedroom, black hair wet and a thin pink towel wrapped around his waist. My eyes snapped to his face and heat built in my chest as I struggled not to glance down.
“You could have thrown on a shirt first. The beer would have kept.” A flippant eye roll gave me a quick glimpse at his chiseled chest. I struggled to focus on his face.
“But why chance it?” He took the beer and leaned against the oven, clearly not in a hurry to head back toward his clothes. He took a sip of his beer, resting the bottle against the indentation at his hip, just above the thread-bare towel.
I forced my eyes back up. Two could play that game.
“Is Frankie coming tonight?”
Diego raised an eyebrow as he sipped his beer. “Yeah, why?”
“He’s single, right?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Just curious. I haven’t really chatted with him, so I’m really looking forward to tonight.” I shrugged and took a sip from my drink.
His eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”
“I think Becca had one of his jerseys, too.”
EIGHTEEN
DIEGO
Cassandra slid across the booth in a skintight emerald green dress and a pair of heels that made me want to lift her over my shoulder and ban her from wearing that anywhere except in my bedroom.
If I thought I could out-petty her, I had been sorely mistaken.
Because a night club should have been the one place I could achieve that. A VIP booth in a crowded club with free-flowing drinks. On a normal night, Trent, Frankie, and I would have had the booth packed with beautiful women, hanging off my every word.
Instead, Cassandra had Trent and Frankie eating out of her hand. My teammates hadn’t so much as glanced at the dance floor, preferring to giggle in the corner like a group of old school pals.
On the field, everything appeared to be going in the right direction, but off the field? Cassandra had me in a tailspin since she tapped my shoulder in the parking lot during preseason. The worst part of it was, I had no intention of stopping it.
A lull in the conversation had Trent looking for a server and Frankie on his phone.
I took the interruption to slide into a seat beside Cassandra. “You know, if you just wanted to chat, it would have been quieter anywhere else.”
She laughed, eyes sparkling in the glint of the strobe lights. “That’s exactly what Frankie said. He said we could go back to his place.”
I frowned. “Okay. Bad idea.”
Her green eyes fluttered out to the crowded dance floor. “I love this song.”
“Are you trying to get me to ask you to dance?”
“Or Frankie. Or Trent. I’m not picky.” She shrugged as if it didn’t make a single difference, a hint of a grin on her face the only sign that maybe she wasn’t so flippant about her dance partner.
“Hell yeah!” Trent set down the bottle of Grey Goose and held out a hand to Cassandra.
I swatted it away. “I’ve got this covered, thanks.”
Trent ignored me, sinking into the seat on the other side of Cassandra and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You know, after Diego is rehabilitated, I was thinking you could play my girlfriend for a bit. Get me out of some trouble.”
Cassandra screwed up her lips, tapping a fingernail against her chin. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, honestly. Diego, how many players do you think I can pretend to date? If I only date one a season, of course.”
“One,” I answered tersely, shooting Trent a warning frown before leading Cassandra onto the dance floor.
“You’re awfully prickly tonight,” she laughed, body swaying to the music as we stopped in the crowd of dancers. “You don’t think it’s a good idea to be Trent’s fake girlfriend next?”
“The two of you would be a PR nightmare.”
She laughed, resting a hand on my chest. My heart rate skyrocketed. “Probably. At least you talk me down occasionally. Trent and I would just encourage each other to take things further. I’d make him bungee jump one weekend, and he’d be off the team. It’d be a mess.”
I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer as a man with two drinks navigated the dancing couples behind her. “Besides, you’re all mine this season.”
She shivered, grip tightening on my shirt. “I’ll try not to let you regret that.”
“Impossible.”
Frankie and Trent didn’t leave us alone for long, holding apology drinks and with new friends in tow. The atmosphere lightened while the bass rocked my chest and sweat formed at my temples. Cassandra closed her eyes, arms up and body rocking against mine.
“Come with me to Vegas,” I called over the music.
She tilted her head back against my chest, ass swaying against my increasingly hard dick. “Yeah?”
“Have you ever been?” She shook her head. “Then you need to come. You can hang out with Lena before the game, and we’ll go out afterward.”
She frowned, eyes flitting back to the booth. “I’m not sure that’s really in my budget right now.”
“I’ll cover it. It’ll be fun.”
Even without a yes, I had already planned out a trip to Las Vegas with Cassandra: gambling, good food, seeing the sights.
“Or I could house-sit for you while you’re gone.”
I grinned with a shake of my head. “No way. You’d just hang around all day playing video games. Besides, you’ll be lonely without me.”
“I would?” Her smile wavered. “I would.”
“Say the word, and I’ll ask Coach Simmons to let you come.”
She laughed. “You need to ask your coach?”
“If I want to buy you a ticket, yeah.”
“They really have you under the microscope, don’t they?”
“I’m worth a lot of money to the Breakers and my sponsors.” I snaked a hand around her waist, pulling her closer. “But you’ll have to behave. No wearing Trent’s jerseys, or Frankie’s.”
“How about Noa?”
I laughed. “Slightly better, but, no.”
“I doubt Lena would appreciate that, anyway.” She sighed, pressing her forehead to my chest as she rocked. “Okay.”
“Okay? I’m offering you a free trip to Las Vegas with the NFL’s most bangable player according to some gossip site.”
She threw her head back with a laugh that made my chest tight. “Most bangable player? Well, how can I turn that down?”
“It’d be really hard.”
“One condition.” She stilled in my arms. “You let me take you out somewhere.”
“That’s ridiculou—”
“No, I get to plan one thing for us. It’s the least I can do.”
I ducked my head lower, inhaling clover and orange. “Is it disc golf? Rematch?”
She rolled her eyes. “You really want me to beat you in another state? You won’t even have home course advantage.”
“Whatever you want to do, I’m in.”
She swayed, tipping her head up with a grin. “I’m going to make you regret that.”
“You look nervous.” Noa stopped mid-aisle on his way to the front of the plane, cocking his head with a frown.
“I’m not nervous,” I grumbled, eyes flitting to the bank of clouds outside the window. “Why would you think I’m nervous?”
He shrugged, sliding into the empty seat beside me. “All the interest in Cassandra, maybe? Sending her off to the game on her own? I don’t know. Maybe you’re just scared we’re about to lose our game.”
I huffed. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“They’ll be fine, Lena and Cassandra.”
“No offense to your fiancée, Noa, but I’m not sure she’s capable of keeping Cassandra out of trouble.”
Noa grinned. “Probably not, but I like Cassandra. She keeps you on your toes.”
“I don’t exactly need someone to keep me on my toes. I have plenty of people for that.”
“And yet, you still asked her to be your girlfriend for the season. How’s Becca taking it?”
I groaned. “Not well. She wasn’t a fan of the halftime kiss.”
Becca had left a long, angry message for me after the game. And she’d had some good points. I’d dragged Cassandra into a world she knew nothing about, exposed her to the press, and asked her to sign a contract I was increasingly concerned she hadn’t even read. And while Becca didn’t come out and accuse me directly, she implied that I had taken advantage of her sister’s good nature and general sense of adventure.
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t bother me and if I didn’t share the same concerns. Maybe I should have just asked Cassandra out and accepted the consequences rather than tricking her into pretending to date me all season. Even if it didn’t feel like pretending anymore.
“Everyone’s a fan of that halftime kiss,” Noa laughed, swiping through his phone to a group message with his family. On the screen was the picture of Cassandra and me, only with added text. Over my picture, someone had typed “Me” and over Cassandra they’d put, “Tacos.”
“Charming.” I’d seen different variations of the meme and so had Coach Simmons. I received an official warning to stay out of the stands with permission to bring Cassandra to Vegas. I’d booked a hotel suite and bought enough tickets to shows to keep her out of trouble until after the game.
“You know, that whole, ‘Imma keep my head down this season,’ thing isn’t really working out for you, is it?”
I groaned. “Not even a little.”
“Do you regret it?”
I laughed. “Not even a little.”
And I meant that, too. As much trouble as Cassandra seemed to get me in, I enjoyed being with her. I enjoyed being reminded that things could just be normal. That I could relax. That I could have a little fun that wasn’t predicated on the celebrities I knew and the hotspots I hung out in.
“And you’re going to stay cool during the game, no matter what jersey she shows up in?”
I ripped my eyes away from the window with a frown. “What do you know?”
“Nothing.” Noa grinned. “Yet, but I’ll let you know if Lena gives anything away.”
“You’re not supposed to be chatting with Lena,” I chided.
He waved a meaty hand. “They can pry my phone out of my cold, dead hand. I’m saying good night to my fiancée before bed. This ‘women weaken legs’ bullshit drives me nuts.”
I suspected it would drive him even more nuts after he was married. Except for Rob, who pulled both seniority and single dad status, most of the guys on the team traveled to away games solo. Mila, Rob’s daughter, flew with us when she was in diapers, but now officially a kindergartener, she stayed behind when our games interfered with her school schedule.
Most of the players went straight home after, but Las Vegas was different. A Monday night game with Tuesday and Wednesday off, more than a handful of players extended their hotel stays and flew in some friends for a mid-week break.
Of course, Trent, Frankie or Cole wouldn’t worry about their friends getting into trouble the two nights leading up the game. They’d just join them on Tuesday, listening to the stories from the previous nights with a laugh before going out to make some trouble of their own.
I didn’t want Cassandra getting into any trouble. More specifically, I didn’t want her getting into trouble with anyone besides me.
