The Player I Can’t Pick (The Brodys of Whiskey Run #5)

1. Guy

GUY

I have my hat pulled low on my head as I nurse a beer and watch the crowd. I got into Jasper a little earlier than expected. Since my flight to Ohio doesn’t leave for another few hours, I stopped at a bar near the stadium to grab some food before heading to the airport.

I traded my Jasper Bears hat for one with my brother’s ranch name stitched across the front, hoping it would make me a little less noticeable.

So far, it’s working, but I’m not sure how long my luck will hold.

It’s Friday night, and even though the Bears aren’t playing at home, downtown Jasper is packed. The bar is filled with a mix of people who just got off work and are ready to wind down for the weekend and others who are already getting a head start on their drinking.

I take another swallow of my beer, scanning the crowd, and my gaze lands on her almost immediately.

She’s standing at a high top a few tables away, and beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it.

Long red hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and every so often, she reaches up to tuck a stray strand behind her ear.

She has big eyes, long lashes, and a set of tits that has me tightening my grip around my beer bottle.

The rest of her is just as tempting.

She’s soft and curvy in a way that makes my mouth water, wearing dark jeans and a green shirt that hugs every inch of her. She looks like the kind of woman a man could lose himself in and never want to find his way out.

If it weren’t for the fact that she looks at least ten years younger than me, I’d already be standing beside her table and asking her name.

She glances my way, then quickly looks down at her phone.

A few seconds later, she does it again.

I sit a little straighter. Does she recognize me?

It wouldn’t be the first time someone spotted me under a baseball cap.

After almost eighteen years in the majors, there aren’t many places I can go without someone knowing my face.

Most days, I don’t mind. I signed up for this life, and the fans are the reason I get paid an obscene amount of money to play a game I love.

Tonight, though, I don’t want to be Guy Brody, legendary Jasper Bears player.

I want a burger, a cold beer, and a quiet flight out of town.

Someone knocks into the back of my chair, and a man mutters an apology. I keep my head down, careful not to draw any attention, but then I hear the conversation happening behind me.

“That’s her, right?”

There’s a pause before the other guy says, “Let me see your phone.”

“I matched with her on Pick Me. She looks good in her profile.” He laughs under his breath. “Fuckable, anyway.”

My fingers tighten around my bottle.

For a few seconds, neither man says anything. I tell myself to ignore them. Guys say stupid shit in bars all the time, and it isn’t any of my business.

Then one of them lets out a loud laugh.

“Fuck, dude. That’s her. Her profile says curvy, but that’s not curvy. That’s thick.”

I set my bottle on the table before I crush it in my hand.

Turning slightly, I look at the two men behind me. They’re both wearing Jasper Bears hats, which somehow makes me hate them more. They don’t deserve to be wearing the logo. One is holding a phone while the other stares across the bar.

I follow his gaze.

They’re looking at her. The woman I’ve been trying not to imagine naked since I first noticed her.

My jaw clenches. The two men start going back and forth, debating whether the one who matched with her should stay or sneak out before she sees him.

There’s no way I can sit here and listen to this.

At the same time, I can’t exactly do what I want to do either. She’s too young, and I already know I wouldn’t trust myself around her. I’d walk over there intending to help, and five minutes later, I’d be asking if she wanted to leave with me.

“Her profile says her name is Nicole,” one of them says.

I’m still eavesdropping, but I don’t give a damn anymore.

Nicole. I let the name roll around in my head. It suits her.

The men laugh again, and the sound grates through me.

“Maybe I’ll go over there,” the one with the phone says. “See if she’s desperate enough to put out.”

My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand, and both men look up at me.

For a second, neither of them seems to recognize me. Then the one holding the phone narrows his eyes. “Holy shit,” he whispers. “You’re Guy Brody.”

I lean down and look him in the eye. “And you’re about to delete her number.”

His mouth opens. “What?” he stutters.

I glare between the two of them. “Delete her number.”

“Who?” he asks dumbly.

I grit my teeth. “The woman you’re disrespecting.”

His friend looks between us. “We were just joking.”

I glare at him. “I didn’t hear anything funny.”

The guy with the phone swallows hard. “Look, man, I didn’t mean—”

“You matched with her, made plans to meet her, and now you’re sitting back here talking about her.” I hold my hand out. “Unmatch her.”

He stares at me, and I raise my eyebrows. There’s no way this asshole is getting out of here without unmatching himself to Nicole.

He quickly looks down at the screen, taps a few times, and holds the phone up as proof. “Done.”

“Good.” I straighten and look at both of them. “Now leave.”

Neither one argues. They grab their beers and disappear into the crowd so quickly that I almost smile.

When I turn back around, Nicole is watching me. There’s no doubt about it this time. Her eyes move from my face to the empty chairs behind me, and a small crease forms between her eyebrows. I wonder how much she heard or if she saw them leave.

She looks toward the entrance before checking her phone. The corners of her lips turn down, and her shoulders drop slightly.

Fuck. I did that.

No doubt she just received the notification that the asshole unmatched with her. She doesn’t know what he said or that I made him leave. As far as she knows, he took one look at her and decided she wasn’t worth staying for.

My hands curl into fists at my sides.

She shouldn’t feel embarrassed. She shouldn’t be sitting there wondering what’s wrong with her when there isn’t a damn thing wrong. The only person who should be ashamed is the asshole who walked away from the most beautiful woman in the room.

I’m not going to touch her. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

I’m going to walk over there, explain what happened, and offer her a ride home. That’s it. I have a flight to catch, and she’s too young for me. Getting involved with her would be a bad idea for more reasons than I can count.

Unfortunately, none of those reasons feel important while I’m looking at her.

I gesture for the waitress, needing to settle my bill before Nicole decides to leave.

The waitress sees me and starts heading my way, so I pull my wallet from my back pocket to be ready.

I keep one eye on Nicole the entire time.

She stares down at her phone, glances at me, and then lifts her hand and motions for the waitress.

I nod toward Nicole’s table when she reaches me. “You taking care of her?”

The waitress follows my gaze and nods. “Yeah. Poor girl got stood up, I think.”

The sympathy in her voice makes my chest tighten.

I pull a hundred dollar bill from my wallet and hand it to her. “Here. Take care of her bill too.”

Her eyes widen. “Both of your checks won’t be this much.”

“Keep the change.”

She starts to protest, but I shake my head. I don’t care about the money. I care about reaching Nicole before she slips out the door.

“Thank you,” the waitress says with a wide smile.

I nod and slide my wallet back into my pocket. Nicole reaches for her purse and begins gathering her things.

It’s now or never.

My pulse is racing as I start walking toward her. I grow more nervous with every step. I tell myself I’m just going to tell her the truth and make sure she gets home safe. That’s it.