Penalty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Alpha Second Chances Book 3) (3 page)

T
he kiss has forced
my hand.

I watch Madison take off, willing my feet to stay in place and not go after her because Bethany has become a problem that needs to be dealt with immediately.

I’ll return to Madison soon enough.

I make sure to inform Maddy of this with my eyes as she turns back to look at me, and I’m pretty sure she got the message.

I am coming for her.

“What the hell was that about?” I ask, finally concentrating on the quietly seething blonde in front of me.

“What?” Beth responds innocently, widening her eyes for effect. “I can’t say hi to my boyfriend? You have something against PDA now? You didn’t have an issue slapping my ass in front of your teammates last week, or… ”

“I get it,” I say, holding up a hand. “You’re right—you did nothing wrong; nothing out of the ordinary, at least. But you were definitely sending Maddy a message… ”

“‘Maddy,’ huh? Hmm. You know I thought I heard you call her that on my way to you. You guys must’ve been pretty close back in the day or something. It seemed you were more than ‘just neighbors’ with the body language.”

“Is that why you felt compelled to tell her to keep running?”

She sort of chuckles then shrugs, obviously not regretting a thing.

“Well, I meant it, babe. She’s clearly into you and I am fully within my rights to tell her to back the fuck up off my man.”

She smiles sweetly, and it’s so weird to see the juxtaposition of her vulgar words and her pretty face sporting an innocent smile.

“About that… ” I begin.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she says in a slightly different voice, her face seeming to darken as her smile drops. “You better not be about to say what I think you are.”

“I’m afraid I am. Look, Bethany, I think we’ve run our course… ”

“Don’t you dare go there, Abraham Stone. Don’t you dare try to break up with me.”

“There’s just nowhere else for us to go… ”

“You’re telling me you got an eyeful of some ugly transfer and you just
have
to have her? You’re throwing away everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been to each other for some nerdy skank?”

“She’s not ugly, and she’s not a skank. Come on, now—don’t be petty.”

“How do you know she’s not a skank? Anyway, look,” she begins in a quieter voice, “if you just need to get it out of your system because of some unfinished business between you two from back then, then go ahead and sleep with the hideous whore. It’s not like I haven’t let you fuck someone else before.”

“It’s not just that, Bethany… ”

“Okay, so what the hell else is making you want to turn your back on me without a second glance? What the heck did I do to you to make you so cold? You know I’ve been making anniversary plans and everything! We’ve been together nearly three years and you want to throw it all away because of… what? How long have you actually known this girl? What is she really to you?”

Everything
, comes to my mind, but I obviously can’t say that.

I consider how to answer her question, then decide it’s none of her business.

Why bother explaining my brief history with Madison? Beth wouldn’t understand.

Mostly, it’s not something I want to share with Bethany—it’s precious to me, and letting Beth in on it would be like offering up a lamb to a lion.

Besides, it doesn’t really matter in the long run, does it?

Even if I hadn’t met Maddy back then, I probably still would have been drawn to her. I think.

In any case, it’s too late; I’m pretty sure our destinies are entwined. Something in me refuses to give up on Maddy now that she’s within my reach again; it would be a losing battle against my feelings for Madison Mills.

Besides, what would I actually say to Beth? That I basically stalked Maddy when she and I were teens?

Maddy doesn’t even have a clue who I am, and here I am, upping my stalking game.

“Beth, I’m sorry—I’m really not sure how to explain this other than to say you and I aren’t right for each other, and I think you know that. Madison aside, you and I never really connected the way we should have. I always knew we’d break up someday; I just didn’t know it would come sooner than later. I figured by the time we were about to graduate… ”

“Wait,” she says in a dangerously low voice, “so all this time, you knew how committed I was, and you couldn’t tell me this before? You didn’t even give me a chance to consider someone else who might take me more seriously? How selfish can you be? How dare you treat me like this? You’re gonna fucking pay, Kevin Abraham Stone unless you take it back!”

Okay, her voice is starting to carry far and wide, shrill and yet so very clear. And I
hate
that she just used my full name.

I don’t need this conversation to be a part of the gossip tomorrow, word for word, so I put my hands on her upper arms in a calming gesture.

It seems to work; I can feel her breathing slowing back down.

“Abe,” she says softer, “I can be very understanding about this. You don’t have to do anything rash. How about we take a little break without it being openly official? You can be discreet in your exploration of… whatever it is you think you feel for this Maddy. But you and me… we have too much history. Just don’t be so impulsive, okay? We both have reputations to preserve.”

I had been lulled into briefly considering her perfectly reasonable proposition, but her last words get my attention.

It’s not so much what she said but how she said it.

On the surface, her words sound innocent enough, but I know Beth well enough to sense a threat.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Her face is still relaxed out of her offensive mode, and she practically purrs while molesting my chest briefly before she says, “Who knows what could happen to your promising career? I would hate to see things ruined for you because horrible rumors start making rounds. You don’t want to appear as a liability of any sort at this crucial time, and I can help you keep a clean image.” She smiles widely. “Come on, Abe. We just make sense.”

Her smile matches the rest of her face, but it’s a different sort of good humor. No friendliness exists there, no goodwill or charity. Her face reflects the restrained excitement of someone playing a favorite game.

I feel like, for the first time, despite her fake smile, I’m starting to see who she truly is.

Clear as if the words were written on her perfect chest comes the message,
This girl is evil
.

“Thanks for making it even easier, Bethany,” I say calmly. “I was actually starting to feel bad. You know, you managed to present a reasonable argument—until you threatened me.”

I lean closer to her, my voice even quieter.

“You don’t get to threaten me, and you don’t get to threaten Madison. We’re through, Bethany, and you better stay away from both of us.”

“Or else what?” Bethany says in another voice I’m not sure I’ve heard before.

I think a chill actually runs through me, almost like some sick sense of foreboding.

What is this girl actually capable of?

Still, I need to be clear I won’t put up with any of her games.

“Don’t find out,” I say gravely.

I don’t have any particular retaliation plans in mind since, despite the flashes of crazy, I think Bethany is capable of putting on her big girl panties and processing this whole thing like an adult.

She just needs a bit of time.

* * *

W
ith the anniversary date cancelled
, I have no guilt about hanging out with my buds at a bar instead of pretending to have something to celebrate with Bethany on Saturday.

But in a way, Bethany’s still with me as I fill in my old teammate and close friend, Cody.

Word will get around by Monday for sure, and I want him to hear it from me.

“You’re shitting me,” Cody says, his blue eyes way too happy about the news I just delivered. Or maybe he just finds it hilarious. “You dumped Bethany McGrath? Does she know this?”

“Yes. We’re done for good.”

He shakes his head. “How did she take it?”

“Not well. She pretty much threatened to ruin my career before it starts.”

“Well, not to be a downer, but from what I’ve heard about her, you probably shouldn’t underestimate her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s hot as fuck, but that girl’s a mean piece of work. The last thing you want to do is be on her bad side. So I’ve heard,” he repeats. “All I’m saying is there’s a bite to her bark. Don’t take threats from her lightly.”

“And you’re just telling me this now? You should have warned me a long time ago! I thought you were my friend!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me she outright threatened you before. Look, I knew you weren’t taking things seriously with her. Why the hell would I stop you from hitting that? And as long as you were with her, you were safe. I just figured she’d get a clue someday and leave you for some other promising football star. Or basketball star. Or baseball star… ”

“Well, to be honest, I guess I was kind of hoping that would happen too—that I wouldn’t have to be the one to drop the bomb, and she’d latch onto someone with more potential or more established. But she was making me look bad in front of Maddy… ”

“Okay, back the fuck up. Who’s Maddy? You been holding out on me, buddy? I thought I was
your
friend! How come I’m just now hearing about her? Have you guys been seeing each other long?”

“It’s not like that,” I say softly. “Not yet, anyway. Maddy’s new this year—a transfer. I’ve just got my eye on her, and I need to be a free agent to go after her.”

“So what’s so special about this Maddy that you had to drop Bethany fucking McGrath like a hot potato? By the way, you know she might go for a team gangbang for spite, right? We’re your buds, but… ”

“I actually don’t give a rat’s ass, which will probably just piss her off more. Besides, she’s too careful about her image; I doubt she’ll risk her reputation like that.”

Beth wasn’t a virgin when I met her, but she also seemed to be fairly conservative with her goodies.

Then again, she has her whole act down to a science, so I’m not actually sure if it’s something she’d do, but I truly don’t give a damn. We’re through.

Not being able to guess whether or not she’d do as Cody suggested is just yet another indication of how little I knew her, and it underscores I made the right decision.

Cody’s eyebrows come together.

“Anyway, so about this Maddy—she on the dance team or something? She’s some heiress? Looks like a lingerie model?”

“No, none of the above. We actually have a bit of history—I met her some time ago, when we were pretty much kids. We used to be neighbors, sort of. Anyway, it’s been a long time since then, and I thought I’d never see her again, but there she was, in my English class. I just… I finally have a chance to be with her, and I’m not letting her get away this time.”

“Huh,” is all Cody says, and I suspect he’s still stuck on the idea of getting a chance to bang my ex.

It’s not like I didn’t know Beth was the most lusted after girl on campus, and it’s not like the guys can do much to hide their envy that I was with her; I don’t blame them for drooling.

Cody’s right—any or all of them would take up an offer from her, if given the chance.

Well, let ‘em have her—she’d be off my back, at least.

My mind drifts back to Maddy.

I’d bet money she’s not the type to have seven-eleven legs; in fact, her count is probably super low. She can probably count her partners on one hand with fingers left over.

Hell, there might even be a chance I could be her first!

But no way I could be that lucky—she has probably experimented once at least—maybe at her old college.

Still, I’m pretty sure Maddy’s conservativeness is not an act; she is hesitant about opening up to anybody in a way that assures me there’s no way she’s some hidden raging slut or ‘nerdy skank’ as Beth called her. Maddy keeps to herself; she keeps her circles small.

I’m amazed I’ve known Maddy for less time, and yet I’m more sure of her in every way.

“So you’re really serious about being done with Bethany,” Cody says, like he finally processed it, still staring off to the side. Then he turns to me. “Okay, but—not that I’m judging or have anything against it—but going after Maddy right away—isn’t it a bit quick?”

“Eight years is fucking long enough. No more waiting.”

He nods as if conceding. “I hear ya,” he says. Then he tips his glass toward me. “Cheers.”

I’m not sure what exactly we’re toasting, but I think he’s wishing me good luck.

While Cody goes to put in the next round, I think about how to approach Maddy.

* * *

I
’m brushing
my hair when Judy surprises me by coming home early.

“Whoa,” she says, sounding like someone who just witnessed a shooting star up close. “That’s a lot of goddamn hair!”

She’s usually in class at this time, so I thought it would be a good time to do my routine.

“I can’t believe… is it real?”

I almost laugh. “Yup,” I say, sort of enjoying her wonder.

“How long did it take you to grow it?”

She still looks hilariously incredulous.

“I’ve just never had it cut. And apparently I inherited a long growth pattern from my mom—she had almost knee-length hair.”

“Goddamn,” she says again, her hand reaching up to her own neck-length black hair, I suspect involuntarily.

“How long does it take for you to… you know… take care of it?”

Uncharacteristically, I happily launch into details of my hair routine.

I guess it’s because we’re in our own dorm room so it’s just the two of us, and I’ve been lightweight stressed lately due to a certain quarterback.

Talking about something so light and frivolous is helping me take some of the edge off.

I remember how nice it is to be able to share like this sometimes, especially something I’m so proud of.

I can easily see why people do this every now and then with one or more people.

Talking about something as silly as hair, with no real stakes involved—the interaction is relaxing.

Besides, I don’t have my usual social anxiety with Judy because, well, I’ve seen her dirty panties crumpled up, and I know what kind of deodorant she wears, what kind of hair products she uses, how she likes to go to bed (pajama shorts and tank).

In a way, she and I are already quite intimately familiar with each other.

At some point, I even let her touch my hair—it seems like she needs to do it in order to confirm what she’s seeing is real.

She is still gazing wondrously.

“Not that I blame you, but why keep so much of it? It obviously takes some effort. Like, why not just have it at waist-length or something if you want it long instead of help-a-prince-up-a-tower long?”

“It’s something my mom and I had in common,” I say quietly, my mood suddenly darkening.

To her credit, Judy seems to intuit that it’s a tough spot, and she drops the subject. And the lock of my hair she’d been holding.

* * *

“
I
want
to take you out,” Abe says as soon as we’re in step after our shared class.

In my head, I’m immediately like,
how about no
, but my traitorous mouth says, “Where?”

Damn. Why did I say that?

If I let him take me out, there’s an excellent chance I’m doomed to lose my virginity—my body won’t stop crying out to be held by his.

No doubt that’s all he’s after from me—especially now that I probably seem like a tougher nut to crack, a bit of a challenge.

Guys like him—all they want is to sample different flowers, right? Dipping from nectar to nectar like parched bees?

I know this is all he wants from me, and yet I can’t stop myself from wanting the same from him—I’ve never wanted to give up my V-card so much in my life—and I don’t know why!

It’s kind of driving me crazy.

Okay, I guess the fact that he’s steaming hot and doesn’t actually come across like a complete asshole, and his voice is like melted butter is good enough for the baser parts of me; he’s got me interested on a primal level. My lizard brain says those genes of his have got to be good—prime material for baby-making. I could have a gorgeous, healthy son or daughter with a guy like this.

Obviously, I don’t want babies—not now, anyway—but my body has no objection to opening up to this male specimen and take that risk.

I know if I give in, I’ll regret it; I’ll end up heartbroken, mentally whipping myself for being so stupid for letting him do that to me.

I don’t want to be a stupid girl!

There’s not even a guarantee I’ll have a good time if he gets in my pants and yet here I am, waiting for his answer so I can pretend to begrudgingly say, “Maybe,” still trying to play hard to get, of course.

Am I trying to punish myself for something? For leaving my last school? For not sticking around and being strong? Do I believe I deserve whatever I get for running away? Even if it’s getting used and abused by some airhead jock?

“I was thinking the Arboretum and Botanical Garden,” Abe says in his deep, silken voice. “Would that interest you?”

It’s a wonder I don’t drop my pants and bend over for him right there and then.

It takes me a second to stutter out what’s supposed to be a smart-ass reply: “A jock and a bunch of plants?”

“A human being interested in the nature of many things.”

My cheeks heat with shame.

I’m definitely going to have to find some other way to try to resist him—lame sarcasm and fake scorn is not the way.

I’m not fooling myself, and I’m just giving him more ammunition to get past my walls because at every turn, he reminds me that he is not an object or stereotype, making me even more interested in him than ever before.

I’m pretty much handing him the tools to further break me down.

I give myself a pass this time around, though—the last thing I expected was for Abe the Babe to come up with the most irresistible date imaginable.

How did he manage to come up with that? It can’t be coincidence.

Has he done some kind of homework on me?

But where would he have obtained personal information?

I don’t have much of an online presence; I barely have a Facebook page.

I try to think if there’s anything on there that he could have picked up on and come up blank.

My profile is pretty minimal: a few photos of me, some with my mom and me, but I don’t have time to announce to the world what I like to eat or do, and I definitely don’t like to announce where I am or where I’m going—I’m far too paranoid to share most stuff, and I certainly don’t crave the attention of strangers.

Plus I have some serious privacy settings on there—not just anyone can see the things I have posted, and I don’t friend just anyone.

I think I have about seventy-two ‘friends’ between high school and college friends and acquaintances, coworkers from various jobs I’ve held over the years, and a couple of distant cousins.

“I’d love it,” I finally say softly, my throat a bit tight. “When?”

He smiles an almost-blinding smile and emotions start choking me even more.

How the hell does he do this to me?

“How about this Saturday at twelve?”

“Deal,” I say, still warm all over.

His adorable half-smile will be my undoing.

* * *

T
hank
goodness I don’t have to dress much differently for the date, but I spruce up my face a bit—some lip gloss, mascara. A bit of eyeliner.

I almost feel like a slut for doing it—like I’m actively trying to tempt Abe to take things further with me—but I like what I see when I’m done, and I ignore the impulse to wipe it all off.

He didn’t show up to class on Thursday, so I only saw him once this week instead of twice like last week.

That saying about absence and the heart is right on about now.

My heart pounds harder as the time until I see him ticks nearer, and it pounds even harder once my eyes finally rest on his large, muscular form again.

Even though Abe is dressed essentially the same, something’s a little different about him, too, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Maybe he brushed his hair differently?

When I get closer to him, I suddenly find myself lost in his masculine aromas.

I never noticed his cologne before, or maybe he’s wearing a new one.

Either way, the scent is heavenly and the whole of him makes me lightheaded.

I feel like I’m going to be lost to him soon.

I don’t know how to stop what’s happening to me, and I no longer want to.

Abe looks so genuinely happy to see me, it immediately destroys me.

He seems truly excited, and it’s making him appear adorably boyish and absolutely irresistible.

He’s not a player extraordinaire for nothing—he has completely convinced me of his joy, despite me already knowing he’s full of it.

Welp—might as well treat this like it’s real. Might as well make a positive memory of it.

“Hi, Maddy,” he says warmly, and again with inexplicable depth of feeling. “You look beautiful.” Off my expression, he says, “You do—don’t give me that look.”

I can’t help but chuckle. Or giggle, I guess—like some damned hormonal fourteen-year-old.

“I’m really glad you agreed to come with me,” he says.

“Not sure I had a choice,” I say somewhat truthfully.

I have this odd feeling something else is at work here, and I don’t want to use the F or D word, but there seems to be something beyond us between us, and I’m just riding the wave.

* * *

“
W
hat made
you think of this?” I ask Abe when we take a lunch break after about an hour exploring the gardens.

I can’t read his look clearly, but there’s a flash of guilt maybe?