Dirty Baller: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (5 page)

She already has a pitcher of Pimm’s and is sitting at our table.

Fuck, did I just say
our
table? What the bloody hell is wrong with me?

I walk over and clear my throat. “Is this seat taken?”

Hayley bites her lip, and suddenly I’m of a mind to do the same thing to her.

“As long as you stay on your side, we’ll be fine,” she replies, sitting up straighter.

“You shouldn’t have worn that top if you wanted me to stay on my side,” I say with a sexy smile.

She blushes. “Sit. This is strictly business, nothing else.”

I slide into the booth on the opposite side of the table. “Alright. I think I can do that.”

I pour out my own glass and drink half of it in one swallow.

Hayley clears her throat and pulls out a pen and a pad of paper. “When did you start playing football?”

I laugh. “You’re serious. I thought you were joking about this being a business meetup. But you’re dead bloody serious right now, aren’t you?”

She nods. “I have a story to write, and not a lot of weeks to write it in.”

“Do you want kids?” I ask her.

She looks taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“For every answer I give you, you have to give
me
an answer. I thought I’d start with a big one.”

“You don’t like to ease into things slowly, do you?” she asks me.

I lean forward and whisper conspiratorially. “After last night, you of all people should know that I don’t ease
into
things.”

Hayley turns crimson and sips primly from her glass of liquor. “I do want kids. Some day. One day. Not now.”

I guffaw. “Well, I wasn’t asking you if you wanted one
now
.” I raise my eyebrows. “Though if you wanted to go upstairs and practice, I’m your man.”

Hayley’s face is so red I feel like smoke is about to start pouring out of her ears. “New topic. When did you start playing football?”

“Back garden at the council house where I lived with my mum. Used to kick a football against my neighbor’s garden wall. Drove her crazy. I did it anyway.”

When Hayley takes notes, she scribbles with her tongue between her lips. It’s adorable. “And when did you start playing professionally?”

I shake my head. “Nope. My turn. Why are you so shy?”

She bites her lip, contemplating. “My older sister is really outgoing and she sort of hogs the spotlight.” She pauses. “You would like her. You’d both get along great.”

“I think I like this Childs sister the best, actually,” I reply. At this point it’s basically a game I’m playing: how many shades of red can Hayley’s face turn? I slam down the rest of my drink. “I’m bored with this. Let’s go do something.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“I know that.” I stand up and throw money on the table. “Let’s do something else.”

“Like what?” she asks.

I stand up and hold out my hand. “We’re in London. I’m sure we’ll find something good.”

Thirty minutes later, we’re walking down the banks of the Thames, the museum district lit up all around us.

“Do you want kids?” Hayley asks me.

I guffaw. “I don’t think it’s your turn to ask questions.”

“It actually
is
my turn,” Hayley says. “And we had an agreement.”

“No, I don’t want kids,” I say to her firmly. I keep part of my response to myself. I don’t want to tell her that I’d be a terrible father. Let her think I’m just some asshole twenty-four-year-old playboy who just can’t be tamed.

I see Hayley eyeing a kebap cart.

“You hungry?”

She licks her lips instinctively. “I could eat.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out two ten pound notes. “Two lamb and two Cokes,” I say to the bearded man at the cart.

“Coming right up,” he says. He deftly maneuvers a long knife to shave off bits of the lamb turning on a metal spit. He looks over at Hayley and winks. “You two have been together awhile, right?”

Hayley looks at me, panicking and biting her lip. Blush rises in her face. “Oh, we’re not together.”

The man places the meat inside of a warm pita, topping it with lettuce, tomato, and a drizzle of yogurt. He hands Hayley her kebap wrapped in wax paper.

“You think you’re not together. But this one over here?” He nods at me. “He’s a chaser. You better watch out. I know these things.” He pounds his chest. “It’s instinct.”

Hayley is speechless as I hand over the money and take my kebap and two icy drinks.

We wander over to a bench overlooking the Thames. The Tate Modern is lit up across the way. “That’s my favorite museum,” I say to her.

“Really? I didn’t take you for a modern art fan.”

“Have you been there?”

Hayley wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I haven’t been there, no. This is my first time to London.”

“Well, I’m taking you. This weekend. Sunday, after our match.”

Hayley laughs. “You really
do
chase, don’t you?” She chews her kebap thoughtfully. “London is different than I thought it would be. You know, I grew up with a poster of the London Eye over my bed.” She glances down the Thames to the big, ugly, modern wheel. “It really is a bit of an eyesore in person. It’s out of place here.”

“That’s it’s nickname. The London Eyesore,” I say to her with a smile. “People here hate it. I’ve never been on it.”

“Really?” she asks.

I nod. “It was built right before my mum died. And she didn’t really have the money to take me up there. It’s quite expensive, actually.”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Hayley says quietly. “I didn’t know that.”

I shrug. “How could you? She’s better off up there somewhere.”

“I bet she’s proud of you, being a famous footballer.”

I laugh. “Yeah, well. She might not be as proud of me as you think. You Googled me, right?”

Hayley looks sheepish. “Yeah, I did.”

“And what did you find on me? That I get into fights and get drunk and drive my car into trees. Not exactly something to be proud of.” I stiffen and finish up my kebap, crumpling the wax paper and tossing it into a waste bin ten feet away. “But that’s all changing now. I’m keeping my nose clean as best I can down here.”

Hayley finishes up her dinner and walks over to the bin to dispose of her waste. “People can change, you know. I believe that. My dad always says that.”

“Your dad sounds like a good man,” I say, walking alongside her up the embankment.

She nods. “He is. I’ve got big shoes to fill, honestly. He used to be a sports journalist. That’s why I’m doing what I’m doing.”

“Is it what you would have chosen for yourself?” I ask her.

She opens her mouth to reply but closes it, thinking over her words carefully. “Maybe not,” she says honestly. “I always wanted to be a novelist but there’s not a lot of money in that.”

“Is there that much money in sports journalism?” I ask her, trying not to sound sarcastic.

“It’s a steady job. I’m lucky to have the position I have. I’d hate to give that up for a lark.”

“What would you be writing in your novels?” I ask her.

She pauses again. “You’ll laugh at me if I tell you.”

“Try me,” I say.

“I’d love to write science fiction.”

I laugh.

She scowls at me. “See? I told you that you’d laugh at me.”

I shake my head. “No, no. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because that’s my favorite kind of novel. I’m kind of impressed by that. I wouldn’t have expected it.”

“Your favorite, really? Who do you like?”

“Kevin J. Anderson’s Star Wars books are my favorite. I still read the young Jedi series.”

“Jacen and Jaina. Those were my favorite, too,” she says with a grin. “Small world.”

We stop and stare at each other, the distance between us suddenly seeming uncomfortably intimate. My mind reminds me that I’m into one night stands. This is feeling more like a relationship budding. It makes me nervous in a way I’ve never felt before.

Warning bells go off in my head and I respond the way I usually do. By pushing people away.

“Yeah, well. They were pretty popular mass-produced paperbacks. I really don’t think it’s that remarkable. It’s like saying we both like Harry Potter. I mean, who doesn’t like Harry Potter?”

There’s a flash of hurt across Hayley’s face. “Right.” She starts walking again. “I think I’m about ready to head back now, actually.”

“That’s a good idea,” I reply.

I can’t get close to her. I just can’t.

I fuck up everything I touch. I can’t do that to her, too.

CHAPTER SEVEN

HAYLEY

“It’s late,” I say automatically into my phone as I answer Alison’s call. I’m back in my hotel and about to brush my teeth.

“Don’t care, little sis,” Alison says. “I want to know how your one-night stand went.”

I clear my throat. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how? Like he tied you up and whipped you while you screamed out his name in ecstasy?”

I roll my eyes and blush, happy that Alison can’t see my reaction right now. “No, complicated as in he’s a footballer on the team I’m writing my piece for.”

Alison whistles. “What are the odds of that?”

“Pretty low, but here I am anyway,” I reply to her.

“So, how was the sex?”

I’m suddenly acutely aware that Ryan is on the other side of this bathroom wall. He could totally be listening. I lower my voice and walk back into the bedroom.

“It was incredible,” I say honestly. “He’s…well. I guess British guys are bigger than American guys?”

Alison laughs. “No, it’s just that you’ve see maybe two dicks in your entire life. But I’m happy to hear that he’s big. Did he go down on you? Did you blow him?”

“Alison!”

“What? I need details. You always tell me this stuff. I know that nobody’s ever done that to you, so I want to know if this guy is more generous than the other assholes you’ve been with.”

I lower my voice even more. “Yeah, he did. And…it was amazing.”

Alison whoops and I hold the phone away from my ear once again to protect my hearing. “Congratulations! You’ve finally been with someone who isn’t a selfish asshole. So, when are you seeing him again?”

“Did I not just tell you? He’s one of the subjects of my story. It’s a conflict of interest. We can’t be together.”

Alison gasps. “Ooh, but you want to. I can tell you want to. Oh, this is juicy. What’s his name?”

I answer without thinking. “Ryan Mackenzie.” I hear the clicking of computer keys. “Are you Googling him?”

“Of course I am, Hays. Wouldn’t you?”

I don’t say that I
did
, in fact, Google him the night before. I’d spent an hour on seedy celebrity news sites seeing him in and out of court arraignments.

“Ooh, I’ve seen this guy before! He’s on all the celeb sites here in the States, that’s how bad of a bad boy he is. He was dating that supermodel who’s friends with that singer who has your first name….Holliday. That’s her last name. Yeah, she’s best friends with her. She’s gorgeous. Wow.”

“Thanks, sis, for the vote of confidence. So what you’re saying is
wow, he normally bangs supermodels, what is he doing with Hayley?
”

Alison sighs. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s a good question, though,” I say, trying not to feel hurt. “I don’t understand what he wants with me. I mean, we went out to dinner tonight and-“

“You did what?” Alison shrieks. I turn down the volume on the call.

“We went out for dinner tonight. Just kebaps on the street. We walked along the Thames near the museums. It was nothing, I swear.”

“Nothing? You’re going out on dates with Ryan Big Dick Mackenzie! You’re going to end up on the front page of every gossip site over there! You’ll be famous!”

“Could you quiet down?” I ask her. It’s like she knows that I tried to turn down the volume so she’s correspondingly getting louder. “He’s in the room next to me.”

“The room next to you! What are you doing talking to me right now? Go knock on his door and ask him to fuck the life out of you!”

“I don’t think he wants that, actually.”

“You’re telling me that Ryan Mackenzie took you on a date and didn’t fuck you?”

I don’t want to tell her that he basically pushed me away when we found out we had a little thing in common. I saw him freak out.

“I told you, I’m writing a story about his team.”

“So what did he do when he found out that you’re writing a story about him?”

“Not about
him
, about the team. He was surprised to see me. And then he started punching one of his teammates.”

Alison laughs. “Yeah, that corresponds with what I’m reading about him on the web right now.”

I take a deep breath. “He hit his teammate because of me, actually. It wasn’t some random fight. His teammate tried to get fresh with me.”

Alison cheers. “Let me get this straight. He’s dating you. He’s defending your honor. He’s risking his position on his new team to save you from a skeezy player? Do you realize what this means?”

“What?” I ask, falling backwards onto the fluffy mattress and sighing from tiredness.

“He’s falling for you. Ryan Mackenzie is
falling for you
. Fuck the story, Hays. Go fuck
him
instead.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

RYAN

I ignore Hayley at practice the next day.

She’s doing the same to me, which works out well. That way I don’t need to be awkward with her.

The captain blows the whistle and I head to pick up the cones and balls as usual. I’m basically the water boy right now.

I’m showering in the locker room when I hear Ivan’s voice.

“Where’s Mackenzie?”

“Shower,” someone replies.

I pull aside the curtain and duck my soapy head out into the locker room. “What’s up?”

“I want to see you after you’re done,” he says.

I groan inwardly. This can mean nothing good. I take my time showering and getting dressed until I’m the last one in the locker room. I drop my towel, pull open my locker and realize it’s empty.

Someone, probably Terence, has taken all of my clothes. I pound my fist on the metal locker and yell in a total rage.