Page 5 of Filthy Player

She wasn’t worn out, she wasn’t tired from a hard night’s work. This woman was exhausted. She wore it as clear as my mom used to when I was a kid and she worked three jobs in order to keep a roof over our head and pay for my football fees.

I suddenly felt like a dick for coming on so strong. I wasn’t the player or the arrogant prick some people thought me to be. I worked damn hard. I played harder. I was also raised by two women who’d kick my ass to hell and back if I treated a woman like trash.

“Double cheeseburger, hold the fries and a side salad with ranch, please,” I said, tossing my menu to the center of the table.

I’d been teasing the woman, Paige, I now knew from the stitched-on name just above her left breast on her shirt. I hadn’t seen it before. “And before any of these knuckleheads start arguing about splitting up the check later and making you work six times harder than you need to, it’s all on me tonight.”

“What the hell?” Kolby guffawed. “You’re too cheap to pay for our crap.”

“Not cheap. Frugal.”

We’d had this argument before. Kolby thought I was a tight wad with my money because I didn’t give a shit what I wore, barely ever bought anything new unless it was absolutely necessary. Hell, my entire team gave me crap about my old Ford pickup I’d had since high school.

Why the hell would I buy something new when the one I had still ran just fine?

Well, except for the strange sputtering it’d been making lately, but that was beside the point.

I came from shit, worked myself out of it, and no way in hell was I going back there.

One wrong hit and my career and endorsements could end before Christmas. I’d set myself up to live easy for the rest of my life. I never saw the point in throwing away millions on mansions and sports cars when if my career went, so did all that crap.

Kolby got it, despite the fact he did live in a mansion, but he had a daughter to take care of and a mom who lived with them. He needed a home.

I liked my brownstone just fine.

“Making it easier on Paige,” I said. “It’s busy and I was trying to help.”

I glanced at her, saw her mouth drop open and her eyes flutter rapidly before she shook her head.

Her cheeks bloomed when she did. A pretty faint pink color I wanted to explore at other times, but now wasn’t it.

I knew where she worked. I’d approach when she wasn’t busting her ass.

“Order, assholes,” I said, knocking my knuckles on the table. “We’ve got a meeting to get back to.”

While the rest of the table ordered, I filled their glasses with beer. When they were done, I collected all the menus and handed them to Paige across the table, my arm long enough to reach so she didn’t have to bend much.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes on me, a little bit glassy.

“Not a problem. Had a mom who waited tables. It’s hard shit.” I grinned intentionally, hoping like hell I looked sincere. I was.

She took the menus and gave another swipe of the table with her eyes. “Need anything else before I put your order in?”

Quinten opened his mouth.

“We’re good,” I said before he could speak. The guy was one of our best running backs. He was also picky as hell. I imagined him requesting six additional things to his order plus making it complicated. He could deal with whatever he got.

“Sounds good. I’ll be back with your food as soon as it’s ready.”

“Thanks, Paige.”

She blushed further and looked at her chest where her name was scrawled. She nodded once and walked away.

When she was gone, Kolby nudged me in the elbow like I’d done to him.

“The hell?”

“What?” I drank my beer. Smooth and sweet. Damn, I loved the local beers in Raleigh.

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