Chapter 5
RIGBY
Idropped the ball and kicked it before it hit the ground, sending it spiraling downfield toward the opposing squad’s endzone. We were playing a scrimmage game for practice, so the coach had broken us up into two teams.
Hale Bucannon, one of football’s top wide receivers, ran to catch the ball, but I’d put a fuck ton of power behind it and it sailed over forty-seven yards. He missed the catch by inches…but he still missed it.
When he stood and looked back at me, I pumped my fist. “Almost, old man!”
Hale shook his head with a grin and got back to the play. He was getting ready to retire, but he was still at the top of his game.
We jogged to the tunnel when practice was over, and I glanced up into the stands.
I paused for half a second when I thought I saw Cleo, then silently berated myself for being a pussy since the bleachers were fucking empty.
Irritated at myself because I couldn’t get her off my mind, I hurried to the locker room hoping to find a distraction.
I sat down on the bench, and as I removed my gear, Prentice clapped me on the shoulder. “Great play out there, man.”
I lifted my chin in acknowledgment, and one corner of my mouth kicked up. He smiled and walked away. A lot of people would have seen my reaction as a brush-off, but my teammates knew that it was practically the same as a three-paragraph letter, effusing how grateful I was for his compliment.
Once I had everything off, I wrapped a towel around my waist and trudged into the showers.
It had been a hell of a practice, and I was aching everywhere.
At first, the steam and the pounding of the hot water felt good on my muscles.
But then my thoughts drifted to a certain curvy, pink-haired pixie, so I reached for the handle and twisted it all the way to the other side.
When I’d managed to calm my body and clean up, I shut off the shower and headed back to the locker room to get dressed.
After I changed into a T-shirt and jeans, I grabbed my phone and a New York Nighthawks baseball cap, then set them beside me on the bench so I could shove my feet into my shoes.
As I laced up and tied them, I noticed that I had a text from Natalie, so I swiped the screen to open it.
Nat: Thanks again for going with me last night. You’re my favorite brother!
Me: I’m your only brother, brat. And you’re welcome.
Then I grinned and shot off another message with my order for the next time she cooked for me.
Me: Spare ribs, twice baked potatoes, and cherry cheesecake.
Nat: LOL How about the Friday after Thanksgiving?
Me: So you can talk Mom into making it?
Nat: Busted. Love you, bro.
Me: Me too.
I was about to set my phone down when another message from her came through with a link. It was an article about Natalie’s win. The picture showed us together right after her name was announced.
Nat: See how handsome you can be when you don’t look like you want to murder someone?
I laughed and shook my head, then my eyes strayed to another headline on the sidebar, and my amusement quickly faded.
Gustavo’s mystery date!
Obviously, I was a glutton for punishment because I clicked on the story.
There were several pictures of Gustavo and Cleo throughout the night, all looking happy and intimate.
The article was all about the heartthrob’s mystery date and speculation about his relationship with her.
Apparently, he’d been tight-lipped about his date, and once they saw her, they assumed it was because he’d been keeping their relationship a secret.
It made me wonder how long he and Cleo had been together.
Maybe they hadn’t been exclusive when we met?
I closed my eyes and mentally groaned at myself.
Do not go down the what-if rabbit hole, Hunt.
I sighed as my eyes scanned the locker room.
The Nighthawks had a strict morality clause, but that didn’t account for the number of teammates wearing wedding rings.
It seemed like something was in the water…
but I never thought it would happen to me.
Before now, I hadn't cared. My attention had always been fixated on my career.
I'd never met anyone who had been able to penetrate my focus.
Until Cleo.
Something told me that she would have been worth it. Worth anything.
Anything except cheating. No woman would ever be worth that.
I looked back at the pictures of Cleo and felt profound regret that I hadn’t found her before that Brazilian pretty boy.
There were links to more articles, but I was pissed enough at myself for even reading the first one.
So I welcomed the distraction when Ames, one of our offensive linemen, muttered, “Seriously, D,” as he plopped down on the bench in front of the locker between mine and Dempsey Tate’s, our starting wide receiver. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”
“Best Sports,” Dempsey grumbled.
“They go with someone else?” Ames asked, suddenly serious.
Best Sports was a huge sponsor, and they’d been looking at Dempsey. We were all confident that they would offer him a contract, so I understood Ames’s shift in attitude at Dempsey’s frustrated tone.
“Not yet, but Gil called in a favor and found out that they have some conditions I don’t meet.”
“Conditions?” Ames asked.
“Apparently, they’re looking for a family man.”
“I’m guessing they mean a serious relationship?”
“Like rings and a picket fence,” Dempsey confirmed.
Having heard enough, I put down my phone and twisted to look at Dempsey. “So make it happen,” I stated matter of factly.
Dempsey gaped at me for a moment, then sputtered, “Make it happen? Like get married?”
I nodded and stood, retrieving my keys and wallet from my locker before shoving them in my pocket. “Yeah. If you’re serious about this gig, do what it takes, man.”
If it were possible, I would do whatever it took to make Cleo mine. If Dempsey really wanted this contract, then he needed to get his ass in gear and go for it. I clapped him on the shoulder and walked out.
After adding my phone to my pocket, I put the ball cap on my head and pulled the bill low over my eyes. It wouldn’t keep the paps from recognizing me, but it helped me to evade their questions and ignore them.
When I walked into the hallway, I spotted one of our kickers and a good friend, Roan, holding his one-year-old daughter on his hip. He laughed and slung his arm around his pregnant wife and kissed her temple as they watched their four-year-old little girl do a victory dance.
I tamped down the sudden jealousy blooming inside me.
It was an unwelcome feeling, and I silently cursed Cleo and the day that I met her.
Even though a little part of me would always be grateful for those few minutes I’d spent with her.
Perhaps someday, they would just be a fond memory when I met the right woman.
Although, knowing how rare a connection like that was, I didn’t see it ever happening with someone else.
I hurried to the exit and barged through the door, stomping out into the parking lot.
The crisp fall air felt good on my heated skin.
There were some press gathered there, but security was keeping them corralled so I tucked my cap even lower and ignored anyone calling my name.
I turned to the right and headed straight to my car with a single-minded goal.
However, I’d only made it a couple of steps when my focus was shattered by the sound of my name being shouted in a familiar voice.
One that sent a shot of desire straight to my dick, followed by a surge of anger at myself for being affected by it.
My feet froze in place for a few seconds, then I slowly twisted my head around and immediately spotted Cleo, standing off to the side of the press, but behind the security rope line.
Even if I’d been looking at them before she called out to me, I probably would have missed her because she’d worn a sweatshirt and had the hood up, hiding her very noticeable hair.
"Rigby! I know what you think, but there’s been a misunderstanding. Please, can we talk for just a minute?"
I shrugged and shook my head. "There’s nothing to say. You’re with—”
"I’m not!" she argued vehemently. “It’s a misunderstanding. Please, just give me a chance to explain.”
I’d never been a guy who played games off the field, and I wasn’t about to start. I also wouldn’t give advice that I wasn’t willing to follow. So like I’d told Dempsey, if there was any chance that I could have what I wanted, I was going to take it. And there was no denying that I wanted Cleo.
However, I was wary from past experiences—way, way past. Although I was generally a good judge of character, there were always snakes in the grass. Just like all of my teammates, I’d been burned by social climbing, money grubbing people at one point in time.
But I also appreciated that Cleo was keeping a low profile with the press. So while I wasn’t ready to give her the benefit of the doubt, I was willing to listen.
“Jimmy,” I addressed the guard standing closest to my gi—Cleo.
“Let her through,” I ordered. With raised eyebrows he pointed at Cleo, and I nodded.
I understood his shock, I never spoke to the press unless the coach or front office forced me to.
And in the five years that I’d been with the Nighthawks, I’d never been seen with a woman who wasn’t related to me.
Jimmy raised the rope, and Cleo ducked beneath it before swiftly walking toward me. I waited until she was a foot away, then jerked my chin at her and spun around. The last thing I wanted was to be overheard by the press and give them any fodder for a story.
She followed me around the corner to a spot with relative privacy, partially due to a wall that blocked us from anyone’s view.
I was nervous and excited, like a teenage boy on prom night about to ask his girl if they can go all the way—instead of a badass football player who could get any woman he wanted.
Except, I didn’t want just any woman. Only this one.
Folding my arms over my chest, I leaned back against the wall and raised an eyebrow. “A misunderstanding?”