Page 22 of Filthy Player

Paige would take what she got and make the most out of it. She’d squeeze the hell out of a pile of lemons and make the most delicious lemonade anyone had ever tasted.

Plus, there were similarities that only people like us who had lived it would understand. “We have more in common than I thought we would,” I said, taking a heavy swig of my beer.

I was feeling too damn much. Too hot. Too tight. My dick was throbbing in my jeans making me bite back a groan.

“Because of your mom? What about your dad?”

Few people were brave enough to ask about my family.

Damn. I liked her. She didn’t play games, didn’t try to grab a leash and yank a man around. She just threw it out there, straight up. A girl who didn’t play mind-fucking games was refreshing.

“I don’t know who he is. Mom told me before she passed she was working at a hotel, had a weak moment of feeling alone, and there was some guy there doing some celebrity charity golf tournament. One night, he wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’d her and nine months later,” I sat back and lifted my arms and grinned, “perfection was born.”

“You’re so full of it.” She laughed. It was low and husky like her voice. More porn-sex phone operator than peppy cheerleader.

My dick went hard again as I wondered what she’d sound like when I made her come.

“So, how about I go see what’s taking our steaks so long and we get cooking?”

***

Rain splattered the windshield so harshly it was difficult to see the roads.

My new truck was getting quite the break-in as I drove through water-covered roads. Rain pinged against the metal truck it was difficult to speak over the noise.

Regardless, we were still talking. We’d stayed at IronOar Steakhouse long after I’d planned on getting Paige home, but once we’d gotten past the hard crap of her life, we’d briefly spoken about mine. I told her all about Shannon and how she took care of me growing up. I told her how I wanted to punch Powell in the face for being a dick to her when they started dating, and I begrudgingly admitted I actually did like the guy and he was good for Shannon.

She deserved to be happy and after a disastrous marriage of Powell’s, so did he.

Still, most of the conversation was left light-hearted but deep. Paige told me about her jobs, that she worked at Ride’Em Rough at least four nights every week and sometimes picked up doubles on the weekends as long as she could find someone to help with her dad.

She worked hard, too hard for someone barely twenty-four should have to, but I admired the hell out of her for doing whatever she could to take care of her family.

It wasn’t just because she reminded me of my mom or my sister, or that I liked her tight ass and her husky laughs when she gave them, but because the more she spoke, the deeper I fell.

I hadn’t yet met a girl who made me think of settling down, and we were way too young in wherever this was going to think of something permanent, but I was a master at going with my gut.

With Paige sitting next to me, jumping every time thunder boomed, clutching my hand a little bit tighter, my gut was telling me this girl could be the one.

I’d played the field for the last decade not because I was afraid of settling down, but because I didn’t have time to think about a serious relationship. Hell, I hadn’t even really dated since high school. Hook-ups were easier, but I always made sure the woman I was with knew that going in.

I had been too focused on my game, my career, being the best, and fighting to stay there to even consider a relationship.

But now that I was settled and firmly entrenched in Raleigh, things were changing.

Unfortunately, finding a woman who wanted me more than they wanted the zeros on my paycheck were hard to find once I signed a multi-million dollar contract.

Money brought out crazy shit in people. It turned them into monsters with dollar signs in their eyes. I learned early to stay far away from anyone who exhibited signs.

None of them came close to comparing to the ease of sitting next to a pretty girl in my brand new truck not even bothering to hide the fact she was afraid of a little thunderstorm.

“You don’t like storms I take it?” She squeezed my hand again and thank God I was strong. My knuckles had cracked more than once since she’d tightened her grip.

“I don’t like instability. It’s never been my thing and I always think if the atmosphere can become so unstable, what hope does that give for the rest of us?” She laughed softly, tucking a chunk of her hair behind her ear and turning to me. The grin she shot me burned straight to my chest. The heat from our connected fingers following straight behind. “That sounds stupid doesn’t it?”

“Not coming from a girl who didn’t start off life having a lot of stability. Losing a parent, whether or not you become okay with it, changes you in ways that aren’t ever fixed, Paige.”

“Gosh, it’s uncanny the way you understand me.” Her smile turned soft and she brought up her other hand to cover her yawn as she rested her head on the seat of my car. “I’m sorry, it’s late for me.”

---