Sweet Spot: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Summer Book 2) (7 page)

It wasn’t my usual tactic, but then again Josie wasn’t a usual girl. She’d already proven to me that she was immune to my normal lines and appeal—or at least she faked it really well. And apparently…she didn’t give two shits that I was a pro-athlete and had tons of money. Most girls would jump all over me when they found out. She probably wouldn’t be impressed that I had a beach house in SoCal, a garage full of near-priceless cars and bikes, or that I could take her to red carpet events and buy her diamonds the same way people buy a pack of gum at the grocery store.

Nope.

And I had no idea why none of that impressed her, but the bottom line was—it didn’t. And for whatever reason—the standoffishness, or the attitude—I didn’t know what, but it made her all the more appealing to me.

Josie took a sip from her
hurricane
, wrapping those damn sexy lips around the tiny straw. My cock went to attention and I resisted the urge to shift in my seat. She didn’t need to know how insane she was making me. I already had a shocking lack of an upper hand in the conversation.

“I grew up on a big ol’ ranch about an hour outside of Dallas,” she said, pushing her drink from hand to hand on the table in front of her. Was she nervous? Good. I liked not knowing where the night was going to end up. The unpredictable nature of Josie only added to the anticipation for what it was going to be like when she was mine.

“Dallas is nice,” I replied.

She nodded, still giving me a skeptical eye. “Yeah, my parents are still there. As well as all three of my older brothers.”

“You’re the baby?”

She laughed softly. “Yup, and the only girl.”

“Aha. A princess, I bet.”

She gave a playful eye roll. “Sometimes, yes. But I was never into pink everything and tea parties or whatever. Most of my friends growing up were into pageants and being little mini beauty queens. I would rather play in the creek, catching frogs, and making mud pies.”

I chuckled at the image of little Josie with pigtails, covered in mud, up to her waist in a pond. “A tom boy?”

“Totally. I had to keep up with my brothers.” She smiled and her eyes had a glossy, far-away look for a moment, like she was wandering down memory lane. I studied her delicate face and wondered what it would feel like to get my lips on hers. They probably tasted like candy. “Anyways, I went to college in Oklahoma City and did my internship at the station, channel six. And I’ve been there for two years now.”

I gave a nod as she rounded her eyes back to mine. “That’s cool. Do you miss the ranch? Or you like the city?”

She took another thoughtful sip. “I miss it, but the city has an energy that’s hard to replicate out in the country.”

“I know what you mean.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re a country boy?”

I laughed. “No, not exactly, but I did grow up in a small town. It wasn’t country, per se, but it was small and quiet and nothing ever happened. To go from that life to being a pro athlete, touring the country, and living in a place like California, it’s like I’m on another planet.”

Josie laughed and I memorized the sound. She was even more stunning when she smiled. Her eyes sparkled and reflected light like they were made of precious stones. “I’ll bet. Does your family still live there?”

I shook my head. “Nah. I put my parents up in a sweet house in Boca. They wanted to live somewhere warm so with my first big endorsement deal, I picked them up a nice house in a quiet, gated community.”

“That’s actually sweet,” Josie said, cocking her head to the side as though seeing me for the first time.

“Yeah, I have my moments,” I teased, grinning at her. “I’m not the complete douchebag the media makes me out to be. The heartless monster.”

She blinked and the amazed look left her eyes, but her soft smile remained. “Noted. So, what did your parents do before you moved them to Florida?”

“My dad was a high school teacher, math. My mom stayed at home and did bookkeeping on the side. No one knows where my athleticism comes from. My dad’s a nerdy guy with thick glasses, more content buried in a newspaper or book than out on the field. My mom’s the same way. They’re quiet, conservative, and smart. I’m pretty sure most people think I’m adopted or something…”

Josie’s brow wrinkled. “What do they think of all this, then?”

“They’re proud of me,” I replied, glancing away for a moment. I shrugged and returned my eyes to Josie’s. “They like the perks of having a sports star for a son. My dad likes baseball.”

“Do they come and visit often?”

“Not really.” I took a beat and drank deeply from my beer. “What about you? What do your parents and brothers think about you being in OKC?”

Josie laughed softly. “Well, my dad tries to invent a new bribe every couple of months to get me to move back home to the family ranch.”

I grinned. “Really? Like what?”

“His latest pitch was that he would have a house built on a few acres, with a pool, and a horse pasture all for myself.” She paused and rolled her eyes. “He’s relentless. He paid for my college and never complained, but I don’t know…I guess he never thought I’d take that degree and turn it into a real career. I don’t know why.”

So that was it. She grew up with money, so my money or house wasn’t a
perk
to this crazy beautiful lady. “Hmm. So what does he want you doing instead? Barefoot and pregnant?”

Josie laughed but then cringed, her freckled nose wrinkling ever so slightly. “He wants me to get married, have a house, with some horses and yes, I’m sure grandchildren would be in the top five things on his list.” She sighed deeply. “It’s suffocating.”

“I bet.” I spun my beer bottle slowly in my hand. Before I could think of something to add, or change the conversation altogether, the waitress reappeared with a foil wrapped to-go container and set it on the table in front of Josie. She thanked her and went to dig through her purse for her wallet. “Charge it to my room. Twenty-one fourteen.”

Josie jerked her head up from her search and looked from the waitress to me and then back again. “No, no. I’ve got it. Just one sec…”

I laughed as she fumbled through her purse. “It’s fine, Josie. Really.”

The waitress looked my way and I nodded, shooing her off with a wave of my hand. Josie sighed and stuffed the gutted contents of her purse back together. “I didn’t want you to buy my dinner,” she said, pouting at me.

“Why not? You let me barge into your night. It was the least I could do.”

She looked at me, her expression firm, skeptical. “What do you want, Trey?”

“Nothing. Although, I wouldn’t say no to a bite or two of whatever you got in there. Smells damn delicious. And I’m starvin’.”

She laughed and peeled back the foil covering the top. “Well then eat!”

The warm scent of garlic French fries spilled out and we both made identical moans. Our eyes flashed together and locked in place. Josie’s were wide and alarmed.

“I have a firm, ladies first policy,” I said, my voice low. “Applies to french fries as well as…other things…”

Josie blushed, her face turning a dark shade of pink.

She blinked a few times, clearing her shock away, and then dug into the box. She snatched a fry and munched on it mindlessly. I laughed and dove into the box and snagged a fry for myself. “Damn! I’m gonna need to order some of these myself.”

“Mmm. These are really good.” She went back for seconds and our knuckles brushed together. She pulled her hand back at the contact like a viper was inside the box. “Sorry…go ahead.”

I laughed and pushed the box over to her and wiped my hands off on the linen napkin that had been resting off to one side of the table. “Go ahead. I’ll have some sent up to my room.”

She nibbled another fry and watched me. “You can always stay…you know.”

“Aren’t you leaving?” I asked, struggling to keep a straight face. I was reeling her in, little by little, and inch by inch, she was lowering her walls.

She shrugged. “I have to finish my drink.”

“Right,” I said, grinning over at her halfway emptied glass. “So, then, where were we? Aha, yes, you’re moving to a ranch in Texas and popping out a herd of kids.”

Josie roared with laughter. “No, no, no! That is
so
not the plan.”

Damn. Damn. I grinned at her. “Then what is the plan?”

She sucked in a breath and went for another grasp at the fries. “I’m working at the news station, trying to talk my boss into giving me a real job, instead of being the resident Starbucks gopher, and he told me that if I…” she looked up and stopped herself.

“If you what?” I arched an eyebrow at her.

She waved a french fry at me. “Oh, just, nothing. I’m uh—filling in for the normal sports guy. That’s why I’m here. He wanted me to get some on the ground experience, I guess. If I nail this, I’ll go home and get the promotion I want.” She picked up her glass and stirred the icy drink, trying to get it blended together again.

“Hmm. Sounds exciting.”

I wasn’t sure I believed her. There was obviously a detail to the story that she wasn’t telling me.

“Any tips?” she asked, setting her drink down.

“For what?”

“Being a kick ass sports reporter?”

I laughed. “Well, I’m not sure that I’m qualified to offer advice, seeing as how I’m usually on the other side of the camera, but from my viewpoint, all you have to do is ask repetitive questions, find wounds and sore spots to poke at, and learn to artfully drag up off-season shit and bring it back into the spotlight. Those things will get you a lot of air time. For sure.”

“Wow. Jaded much?” Josie asked with a grin before popping another fry into her sweet little mouth.

I chuckled and spread my hands out wide. “Just calling it like I see it.”

“Hmm.” She frowned and then sipped at her drink again. “Well I have no intention of staying in the sports world long enough to become a thorn in your side.”

I laughed harder and shook my head. “Nah, you couldn’t be.”

She smiled. “Is it worth it? All the drama and lack of privacy? You love the sport that much?”

I thought about her question, turning it over a few times in my mind. Then I nodded slowly. “Yeah, you know, it sounds insane, but it is worth it. I love playing ball and that’s what keeps me going. I fell in love with the game at three, maybe four, when I was on the T-ball team. From there, I went to Little League, and on up through college. When I got drafted and signed with the Coyotes…damn…” I smiled, struck by the rush all over again. “That was the best damn day of my life.”

Josie had the same faraway look. “That’s really cool, Trey. I don’t think most people ever find that thing that makes them tick.”

I leaned in, like a magnet was pulling me to her. “That’s how you feel about being a reporter, huh?”

“Yeah.” She nodded but then dropped her eyes to the top of her take out box. “Well…if I ever get to do it, that is.”

“Stalking me seems like an odd way to get there, but—”

She snapped her eyes to me and grinned. “I’m
not
stalking you!”

I chuckled. “Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that. Come on, be honest, when you first saw me, out there on the tarmac, you were into me. You were squirming in those sexy cowgirl boots.”

Josie rolled her big, beautiful eyes and a thrill washed over me at the wide smile tugging on her edible looking lips. “You’re impossible, Trey. Shameless.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

She snorted and polished off her drink. I watched her drink, running along the curves of her cheek, the way her damp hair fell over her shoulder in a long ponytail, and took a tour of the freckles spattered over the bridge of her little nose. Josie wasn’t like any other girl I’d met. At least not in a long ass time. She wasn’t throwing herself at me. Hell, for that matter, she didn’t even seem all that interested. If she were like the rest of the women I’d met, I’d already have her up in my room, stripped naked, and sprawled on my bed—or whatever the closest flat surface was. Then I’d spend the entire night fucking her silly—knowing that as soon as she walked out the door, I’d never have to see her again—if I didn’t want to. Which—most of the time—I didn’t. I couldn’t remember the last time a woman had actually managed to capture my interest for more than the span of a few hours.

Not Josie. She wasn’t like the rest.

She was gorgeous and sexy. Innocent and wild. Pristine and sun-kissed. I didn’t have her figured out yet. She was clinging to a shroud of mystery and I was desperate to tug it away and see all of her sides.

“So, tell me something,” she said, pushing away her empty glass. The server rushed over to ask if she’d like a refill. She considered me for a long moment and then shook her head and dismissed the server with a polite ‘no, thank you’ before shifting her attention back to me. “Are you planning to behave yourself now that you’re playing with the Warriors?”

I grinned. “That depends on how you define,
behave
.”

She flushed and my smile twisted.
That’s right, baby, admit it. You want me. Bad.

It was just a matter of time.

Josie

If I were to start my report on Trey, it would start by mentioning that he was infuriating, cocky, full of himself, and—as much as it pained me to admit—sexy as hell. As our conversation at the bar meandered and wandered, each dark smile, and every move he made only sucked me further into his rough around the edges brand of charm. And charming he was. He probably could have charmed me right out of my panties if I’d had any on. I shifted on my side of the booth, desperately looking for a way out of the conversation before I said—or did—something extremely stupid.

Like admit that I was crushing on the superstar.

It was dumb. Like, insanely moronic. But I couldn’t help it. It was like sliding down a hill. The farther I slid, the more speed I built up, until I was out of control and holding on for dear life.

He was so disarming that I’d almost faltered and revealed the real reason I was in Denver following the team. When I covered, by saying it was just a tester assignment, a fill-in, there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. I wasn’t sure he bought my story. Part of me wondered if I should just spill the beans. If I could just flat out ask him for an exclusive sit-down interview. But then things got out of hand. We started talking about our families, our childhoods, and it would feel cheap to ask now. Like all I cared about was a story. I’d be just like every other sports reporter that Trey hated. A stereotype. And for some reason, it mattered to me what he thought of me.