Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,164

our private room. The waitresses drew straws to see who would have to serve us tonight. The one fresh out of college, Mary or Beth or something like that, pulled the short one. She groaned and grabbed a tray just to take our order.

Then used it as a shield to cover herself while Bryon’s hand curled up her shorts.

I slapped his head and told him to pick from one of the girls sitting at the bar. They had waited for his arrival. Bryon had them on fucking speed dial, and I hoped to God he hadn’t paid them to show.

“No contract yet.” I took a sip from my beer and crushed a handful of pretzels. The bar was dim, but the waitresses groaned as a pitcher of beer tipped when two of my offensive guards decided to arm wrestle. “They don’t fucking want me.”

Bryon slapped the waitress’s ass. “Keep on dressing in suits and taking Miss Respectability places, and you’ll get that hundred million.”

“Yeah. It’s not about the money.”

“Of course it’s about the money.”

“It’s about the respect.”

I pitched the pretzels away. The beer bottle would have been next had it not jostled against the table and spilled all over me. Bryon separated the guards after the arm wrestling devolved into a near fist-fight.

“They don’t respect me.” The beer soaked through my shirt. I swore. “Think they can jerk me around. They think I’m trouble, just like her.”

“Who?”

“Kiss.”

“Your girl?” Bryon laughed. “Dude, she got you so whipped you can’t even see straight. She’s the reason you can’t get respect. You’re Jack Mother-Fucking Carson. You don’t apologize for taking three sluts home. You don’t dress in prissy-ass suits and pretend you’re some high-class wannabe. You gotta be yourself to get any respect. If they know they can make you grovel…” Bryon ordered me another beer to replace the one soaking into my suit. “Fuck dude, you might as well castrate yourself.”

He had a point. Of course, it completely countered Leah’s school of thought.

But not like playing by the rules got me anywhere. I was entering into the last year of my contract for a team who expected me to lead them beyond a championship and into a dynasty. But the bastards didn’t even offer to extend the terms. If I ate a sack, broke an arm, and was out for the season, fuck me. That was it. No one had a reason to sign me the following year if they thought I’d be damaged.

The linemen were drunk already. They beat the pinball machine in the corner. It ate their quarter, and, apparently, that deserved two boots through the side of the machine. A fist pounded on top of the glass. The waitress hurried over to ask if they needed help.

I saw it happening, but I was too slow to stop it.

One of my men picked her up by the waist, sat her on the pinball machine. He grinned at her.

“Hey, baby. Game’s broken. How about if I twist your buttons tonight?”

“Let go of me!” She slapped him. “Now!”

I shouted to my lineman, but some knight-in-shining armor hopped up from the bar and crashed into the private room. He called to my linemen, but he was just some college-aged punk who really should have looked to see who the fuck he was harassing.

I hopped from the table as the swearing started.

“Lay off her, man!” The kid charged.

I pushed him away. Both of my linemen roared. I yelled, but unless I was in a uniform in front of eighty thousand screaming fans, they couldn’t give a damn what I said when pussy was on the line.

I threw my weight at both three hundred pound men, but it wasn’t my teammates I should have avoided. Served me right trying to prevent them from pummeling the asshole.

The douche heaved a punch aimed for one of the guys.

He missed.

He clocked me in the cheek, narrowly missing my nose but crunching everything else valuable I liked on my face. I took a lot of hits harder than that, but usually I was in full pads. I staggered a bit, swearing. I didn’t have time to stop the rest of my team from charging.

In seconds the bar delved into chaos.

And, within minutes, flashing lights and sirens raged into the parking lot.

I hoped Leah had a long flight. This bullshit wasn’t gonna look good for me.

Neither would the handcuffs slapped over my wrist.

15

Leah

The airport made me sick.

The flight made me sick.

Worrying about getting sick made me sick.

Just about the only