Game For Love: All The Right Moves (Kindle Worlds Novella) (4 page)

Poking out her bottom lip, she batted her lashes at him. “C’mon, Ryan. I won’t tell anyone.”

He grumbled something under his breath about her mouth and eyes.

“Please.” She batted her lashes harder.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but if I do, I get something in return.”

“Like what?”

“My choice.”

“I don’t get to know ahead of time?”

“Either you want to know what they
did or you don’t,” he said lightly.

She never could resist a bet. “Deal.”

His eyes widened slightly, like he was surprised. “They crossed out my last name on my locker and wrote Beckham over it, then they papered it with every image they could find of me shirtless at practice, in my board shorts at the beach, and all the shots from my campaigns.”

“Wow, that sounds harsh.”

“Honey, that’s men.”

“You mean
mean
.”

“I’m a big boy. I can take it,” he insisted, and she let the subject drop. If there was one thing she did know about men,
it was that their egos were important to them. He’d just shared something he considered to be hurtful to his.

She shook her head. “I don’t get you at all.”

One side of his mouth lifted. “In what way?”

“You’re not cocky, or stuck on
yourself, or only worried about the next game or season. You care about other people and want to know about them. And you rescue pit bulls.”

His dark eyes gleamed. “Ah. So,
that’s it.”

Her stomach flipped. “What’s it?”

“You’ve been burned, by an athlete. Most likely a football player,” he guessed correctly.

She smashed her lips together for a
moment, as the old hurt clawed its way inside of her. “I was more than just burned,” she said. “He left me on our wedding day to go play for Dallas.”

“
Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

The server brought their food to them, refilled their water goblets, and made sure they didn’t need anything else before she left the table.

“Wow. I’m really bringing the mood down, huh?” she said, bowing her head to stare at her food. Why had she revealed all that to him? It was none of Ryan’s business and, after one more date, she’d never see him again.

“I’m sorry, Ashley,” he said, his voice low and rumbly like she liked.

She jerked her head up. “It’s no big deal.”

“I think it’s a very big deal,” he disagreed.

“Oh, have you ever been stood up?” she asked.

His jaw worked for a moment “R
ight now, I want to lie to you, so you won’t feel worse, but I don’t want to patronize you.”

She let out a sniff. A stupid sniff that came out of nowhere. “Patronize away.”

“Dozens of times. So many times that I’ve lost count,” he said, and ridiculous happy/sad tears filled her eyes.

“What do I owe you for telling me about the mean guys on your team?”

His gaze bore into hers. “Not one damn thing.”

As Ryan drove them back to her place, he stewed in his own guilt.

Well, maybe not his guilt, but as soon as she said she’d been left on
her wedding day, he knew exactly who she was talking about. He used to play on the same team with him, back when they both were with San Francisco.

And it made him hate that guy even more.

Dean Clark was a show boater, an out-for-my-own-glory-all-the-time type of player. Right after Dean was traded to The Outlaws, the asshole had nearly gotten another player hurt because of his-all-about-me attitude. It was a damn good thing Ryan had been traded to Atlanta only six months later, because he had been liable to punch the son of a bitch at any moment for his asinine ways.

But, h
e’d always wondered about the girl Dean talked about leaving behind. About how he dodged the bullet, because she was so clingy and had tricked him into marriage.

Only, Ryan had never
agreed with Dean’s opinion. In his experience, women who were there from the beginning didn’t want to be with a guy only for the money and fame. The ones who came after notoriety were the ones who were in it for themselves. Personally, he didn’t know of any exceptions, beyond Cole’s wife, Anna, and the woman riding in his truck.

Ryan supposed the only thing
Dean had in his favor was that he broke things off
before
the wedding happened. It wasn’t much, but at least Dean had been honest with Ashley, while Ryan couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he knew Dean or that he’d talked about her. A lot.

But who in their right mind would have ever had guessed that
Dean’s Ashley was
his
Ashley?

“Did you love him?” he asked, and she jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

“It’s okay,” she said, settling down. “Yes, I did love him. We met our sophomore year of college, when I was tutoring student athletes. He tried to tutor me about football, but I never really got into it. That should have been our first clue.”

He could see it perfectly—a guy like
Dean meeting a pretty, smart coed like Ashley and snatching her up before anyone else had the chance. Hell, he would have done that.

“Was he your
first serious boyfriend?”

“Y
es. I have two older brothers. Growing up, boys tended to stay away from me.” She laughed. “For some reason, they liked breathing out of their nose and mouth.”

The tension that had built up around them slowly started to recede, like the tide going out to sea. “Yeah, I like breathing like that, too. I’m the youngest of five. Only boy.”

He pulled into her driveway, parked his truck, and then turned to her.

“I bet you were spoiled so much,” she said.

“If you mean experimented on with makeup and nail polish, then yes. Although, I did learn I’m more of a summer instead of a fall, which helped me decide who I would play for, solely based on how good the color of the uniforms complimented my skin tone,” he deadpanned.

She snorted,
and then let out a full-body laugh. “Stop it. Right now. You can’t end our date this funny.”

“Should I end it
on a sad note? I could tell you about the time when I was fourteen and all four of my sisters pinned me to the floor and waxed one of my legs to see how bad it would hurt
them
.”

Ashley laughed
even harder, her arms wrapping around her middle as she bent over. “I mean it,” she wheezed. “I’m going to pee on myself if you don’t stop.”

“Or I could tell you about the time they blackmailed me
with pictures of playing dolls with them, so that they could use my room to sneak out at night. Except, somehow, one of those picture,” he made air quotes, “
accidentally
got published in the high school yearbook on my senior ad page, with the message, ‘Congrats to our baby sister,
Ryana
.”

Tears s
treamed down her face, her sexy dimples on full display. She could barely speak. “No. More. Please.”

Taking pity on her, he kept the rest of his family memories to himself.
“Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

As her laughter subsided, the expression on her face turned serious. “It was fun. I had a really great time.” She
started to open the passenger side door.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, throwing his own door open and jumping out.

He strode to the other side of his truck and opened her door, holding out his hand for her to take. Once her small hand slipped into his, heat arced between them. He felt it all the way to his groin, as they walked to her front porch.

But lust and heat wasn’t all he felt. He felt a surge of…
guilt
for making her go out with him. Especially after he discovered why she’d avoided men like him.

“Thank you,” she said, once they stopped. She cocked her head to one side, auburn strands falling over one shoulder. “So…”

This was extremely awkward. He had to do something before things got worse. “I think we should take Gunner and Bluebelle to Beauregard’s next Friday, around eight am, before it gets too hot. Are you free?” And that wasn’t it. He was supposed to say something along the lines of ‘
This was nice, but I was an idiot to blackmail you.’

“Yes.” She beamed at him, her smile so bright that he didn’t need a porch light to see it. “Bluebelle would
love
to see Gunner on Friday.”

Ryan felt her hand move, but not away
. In fact, she took his other hand in hers, making her purse slip to her elbow. God, he loved her touching him.

“Why don’t you come inside for,”
she licked her lips nervously, “drinks?”

He hesitated. There was nothing he wanted to do more, than prolong their date, but he
needed
to do the right thing.

Body vibrating in anticipation,
Ashley waited for his response. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. All she knew was that she didn’t want their date to end.

His forehead dropped to hers. “You are a beautiful, sexy
-as-hell woman, but—”

She physically rec
oiled from him, letting go of his hands. “But you just want to be friends. Or you just want our dogs to be friends. I get it. No problem. Really.”

He grabbed her chin. “Let me finish.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“You are a beautiful, sexy
-as-hell woman,
but
I don’t want you to sleep with me because you think I’m expecting it, or that our date has to end with sex. I already made the donation in your brother’s name. After tonight, you don’t have to see me again, not even for Bluebelle and Gunner’s sakes.”

“You did? I don’t?”

This time he looked away from her, letting go of her chin and hand. “Yeah, while you were in the ladies’ room during dinner, I called my accountant and gave him the details.”

Something inside of her shifted. She wanted to spend more time with Ryan, more than just a dog park or another date. She wanted to spend more time with him
tonight
. It didn’t matter that he played football for a living. He wasn’t Dean.

“Why don’t you come inside for a little while
?” she said, hurrying to unlock the door. “I have snacks, beer, and every sports channel known to man.”

“I thought you weren’t in
to sports,” he said, and she glanced over her shoulder.

“I’m not. I have brothers who are
single, and my television is bigger than theirs,” she said with a little smile. “During football season, every Sunday is spent here.”

He grunted. “I guess that’s reasonable.”

After punching in the code to turn off her alarm, she stepped inside and Ryan followed her, closing the door behind him. “You’re still thinking about me stalking football players, aren’t you?”

“Not until you reminded me.”
He grimaced.

Now he sounded like a jock, with his grunts and grimaces.
She sighed. “Make yourself at home while I grab us some drinks.”

Hurrying to the kitchen, she slung her purse over a dining room chair and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her hair looked good, but her makeup could use a little work.

“Beer, water, iced tea, or soda?” she called out.

“Tea would be great.”

Bluebelle bounded over to her, tail wagging like crazy. “Did you see who was here?” she asked the dog. “Or do you want to go outside first?”

Bluebelle went to the door and turned around twice.

“Outside it is,” Ashley murmured, opening the door.

Bluebelle ran out, spotted something in one of her
flowerbeds, and started stalking it. With a smile, Ashley closed the door and, as quickly as she could with trembling hands, fixed two glasses of tea and then moved to the living room.

Ryan
sat on the sofa, ankle on his opposite knee and remote in his hand. Despite his size, he looked like he belonged there. Then again, she had oversized furniture on purpose. Her brothers and dad were tall men, with wide shoulders and long legs. She loved having everyone over. Her family talked, ate, and laughed while they shared their weeks. When it was time for the guys to watch the game, she and her mom would go out on the back porch and talk.

Maybe Ryan would like it out there?

“Hey,” she said, and he looked up at her. “Would you like to go out on my back porch, instead of sitting in here?”

“S
ure.” He got to his feet and moved close enough to take his drink from her.

“I
t’s my favorite part of the house,” she said as they made their way to the back of her house. “It’s practically another room, just outside. There’s a fire pit and everything.”