Bear Naked with the Bearded Baller (The Cocky Kingmans #0.5)

Chapter 1

CITIEST OF CITY SLICKERS

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If I never signed another talent contract in my entire fucking life, it would be too damn soon.

At this point, I didn’t even want to see a football, much less hold one.

I’d lived the sport for so long, loved it even, and all this media bullshit made me want to throw my TV and my Sports Illustrated subscription in the trash so I couldn’t even watch a professional football game again, much less play in one.

The bell above the door jingled in the way only a small business in a quaint country town could.

A poster for my local Cause for Paws charity event that was happening next weekend hung by the entrance.

I’d take the sound of that bell over the ringing of my phone any day, all day, twice on Sundays.

I made my way through the familiar aisles, not needing a damn thing except the peace and quiet.

I nodded to Tex behind the counter, who was busy flipping through the pages of a catalogue. He gave a chin jerk response. “Kingman.”

That’s what I liked about him. He didn’t blather on and on and on and on like some people I knew. Like my fucking agent.

I glanced at the new display from Husqvarna, because I needed a new chainsaw as much as a hole in my ass, then headed over to the lumber section.

The scent of sawdust and fresh cut pine seeped in, better than any icy-hot muscle rub down from a trainer.

I took my first full, deep breath in an hour.

My work boots scuffed against the linoleum floor, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, scowling at the options in front of me.

Both the wood and my career.

I was about to grab a few castoffs I could carve up when I caught sight of something hot pink and furry, out of the corner of my eye. The scent of orange, vanilla, and sweet cinnamon wafted over and went straight to my cock.

My days of adrenaline fucking were over. But man, a good railing, up against a wall, making a woman scream my name as I pounded into her... I told my libido to cool it. I was not good company right now. Even the media knew that. Since I’d just been named the league’s meanest player.

I stared through the shelves anyway and found my feet shifting toward the tempting sex-on-a-stick.

She was an aisle over, her basket filled with an odd collection of items — paint brushes, a bag of nails, a roll of duct tape, and a trowel.

I couldn’t begin to imagine what she was planning to do with all those items.

I stepped into the aisle full of small tools she was perusing and fu-uck. She was no stick. Sexy cinnamon roll more like it. Tits I could get lost in, an ass that didn’t quit, hips I wouldn’t break if I grabbed on tight while fucking her, and thick thighs I wanted to use as earmuffs.

She wasn’t a Colorado mountain girl, that much was clear from her outfit.

Maybe she’d fit in with the kind of people who lived in Aspen.

Nobody in Bear Claw Valley would be caught dead in fake leopard fur trim on a coat that didn’t look like it would hold up to forty-degree weather, much less forty below.

And those boots. While I’d like to see her in nothing but those black shiny knee-highs, heels weren’t exactly good for the snow.

She moved from section to section, her gaze flitting over the items, grabbing all kinds of random shit. And I turned into a god-forsaken stalker, watching her, lusting after her.

Just say something to her, creeper.

It wasn’t like I didn’t know how to talk to women. I’d charmed my fair share of ball bunnies. But I didn’t have a clue what to say to Cinnamon Roll.

Can I taste your ooey gooey sweet center was not a good pick-up line.

She paused and turned toward me, so I reached for a roll of wallpaper.

Pale pink with little unicorns on it, as it happened.

I examined those unicorns like they were the San Francisco offensive line.

I kept my eyes glued to the paper so hard, I didn’t even move until something jolted against my foot.

I glanced down to see the woman’s overflowing basket tipping over, dumping half the contents onto my feet as she squatted and reached for something on the very back of the bottom shelf.

Her jacket rose up her back, and the waistband of her ridiculous black suede pants gaped so that I got a clear view of the intricate tattoo scrawled across her lower back. A unicorn. A god-damned fucking unicorn prancing in some kind of magical sunlight.

Holy hell. There was no talking my cock down this time. The second she looked up, she was going to get a load of the pop-up tent in my jeans.

“Watch where you’re going,” I ground out and tried to step around, over, away from her, practically falling all over myself.

The deepest sky blue eyes, framed with long, dark lashes, stared up at me.

She didn’t seem fazed by my attitude or my hard-on that was practically in her face.

Instead she smiled sweetly. “Oh, so sorry. I thought you might need this gold trim paint to go with your pink unicorn wallpaper. Excellent choice, by the way. Is it for you? Or maybe your girlfriend, wife, daughter? Please tell me it’s for dear old Granny’s kitchen remodel. ”

Her eyes sparkled up at me. They fucking sparkled.

I was a dead man.

She was fishing to see if I was single, and I had absolutely no response. Even my own name escaped me at the moment. Sweet baby Jesus, what was my name?

Cinnamon Roll stood, straightened her jacket, and held out her hand. “I’m new in town, and I’m trying to fix up my cabin up in the mountains, but I don’t know what I’m doing. You don’t happen to be a contractor who could help or know of one I could hire?”

My brain turned back on and piqued at the mention of the cabin. “What cabin?”

“Up on Bear Claw Mountain.”

That’s where I lived. Who in the hell sold a chunk of the Bear Claw to a city slicker? She had the tiniest hint of a Texas twang, and I had an idea who’d given her that land. “Up at the top?”

She smiled like I’d just guessed her favorite flavor of ice cream. “The very tippy top.”

That was no place for a city girl like her.

How would she even get herself up there?

She looked like she drove a Mercedes, not a four-wheeler.

I knew that cabin, or rather that dilapidated pile of wood.

It was just above my plot and accessible by four-wheel drive only.

Windy as hell, and had the absolute best view of the valley.

I looked her up and down, studying her, trying to decide whether she was a liability or not. Attractive, I’d give her that, but she was an outsider. Playing at living a simple life. In reality, she probably loved the tabloids and some ripe gossip. Someone for me to stay far away from.

Walk away, dumbass. I leaned in. “That cabin isn’t far from me. What are your plans for it?”

“I want to fix it up and make it a sustainable, beautiful space to get away from it all.” She sighed and I could practically see her mountain cabin fantasy floating around her head.

“I’m hoping to use local and reclaimed wood as much as possible and make it energy efficient. Maybe get some solar panels in and—”

Had she even seen the place? And why wasn’t I walking fast and far from this whole conversation? My head yelled run, but everything else below the neck, and especially below the waist, said stay awhile. See where this goes. “What kind of features you planning?”

“Well, I want to have a big fireplace, for the cold nights.” She got this adorable, dreamy look on her face that had me imagining things too. Although, my fantasies were more about what I could do with her in front of that fireplace on a chilly night.

“I also want to have a big kitchen, for entertaining, and a big porch to enjoy the views and the fresh air. Ooh, and also a green roof, a place where I can grow plants and maybe attract some animal friends.”

I’d be her animal friend.

Gah. No. I wouldn’t. Getting involved with a woman like this was the absolute last thing I needed. She was high maintenance and I barely maintained myself these days. Being with her would draw a lot of attention. I just wanted the world to leave me the fuck alone.

The cabin she’d bought was no bigger than a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty square feet.

It was one room with a loft. She wasn’t getting her big kitchen or entertaining space.

So, not sure why I didn’t bring that up.

“That sounds like a big project, have you thought about the insulation, or the roofing?”

Shut up, Kingman. Shut the fuck up and walk away.

Tex poked his head into the aisle where we were standing, and I was absolutely using him to escape. “Hey, April. Lumber’s ready. Come on up to check out. Kingman, you leave my customers alone, you grump.”

Hmm. Yeah. The way Tex was all casual with her, he knew her. I gave him the bird.

“Thanks, Tanner. Yay.” She gave him a sparkling smile and I glared at him.

April. That suited her. She was like springtime come to life. All sunshiny and gonna make a big muddy mess of my life. I’d be smart to freeze her out right now.

Instead, I was fucking thawing from the stone cold winter of the soul I’d sunk into. Hell.

She picked up her basket and I bent and grabbed the duct tape that was trying to roll away. “I think you’re gonna need more than duct tape to fix up that old cabin.”

April took the tape from me and lingered a long time with her fingers on mine. “If you can’t fix it with duct tape, it can’t be fixed.”

Now if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever fucking heard, I don’t know what was. I watched her walk away, partly to see that ass sway and mostly because I needed a minute to talk my hard-on down so I didn’t embarrass myself in front of the entire town.

That was press I didn’t need.

I waited until I heard the jingle of the door, all the while thinking of baseball, the Queen of England, and how Henry David Thoreau had made Walden so dang boring when it could have been great.

All of that cooled my raging lust for a woman I’d barely talked to enough that I could go grill Tex about her.

He was already back to flipping through his dog-eared power tool catalog.

“You sold April the top of the Bear Claw, didn’t you?” They were probably from the same small hometown back in Texas or something. How else would a Texan like her find out about a piece of property that wasn’t for sale unless you knew who to talk to, sixteen hundred miles away.

Colorado was going to be a culture shock.

“Yep.” He flipped another page and wasn’t going to say another damn word. I could wait him out.

I stood there for a good three minutes while he flipped the pages. Dammit. His silence broke me like a rookie looking for praise from his coach. Tex didn’t even look up.

“She can’t fix that place up herself. You saw her shoes.” She’d break her ankle the minute she walked out the front door. Probably while walking to the door. Then I’d have to go on up there and...

Page flip. “You gonna help her?”

Me? No. What? No. “Not a fucking chance. She’ll sell it and never come back soon enough when she realizes she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Maybe.” Tex shut the catalogue and looked right at me. “Or maybe she’s tougher than she seems.”

I’d believe that when I saw it. I’d better hike on up to her place and make sure she wasn’t about to freeze to death stuck in a snowbank or something. I’d pull her plump ass out of the snow, then I’d take her back to my place and warm her right up.

Dammit. No. I needed to pretend I’d never even met her.

I had plenty of other things to worry about, like my own fucked up career, and the Cause for Paws event this weekend.

I had one fucking weekend off before we played our last game, and I wasn’t wasting my bye-week on some fling.

Unless April was some kind of PR-nightmare-fix-it girl, I didn’t need her complicating my life.

Complicating my bed, maybe.

Hell, that was tempting.