Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (7 page)

T
he coffee burns
through me like a cleansing fire, and for the first time since waking up to my nightmare, I’m at least feeling semi-human.

My head’s still swimming though, as I sit slumped in the diner booth, still feeling barely half-alive, as I take tentative sips from the mug in my hand.

I can’t believe this is happening
.

This can’t be real - not in any rational world. There’s no
real
scenario where I somehow wake up to find myself
actually married
to the most notorious, crudest, scandal-ridden man in pro sports.

I
have
to be dreaming - at least, that’s what my brain keeps trying to tell me. I’m going to wake up any minute now, and I’ll still be the
unmarried
Natalie Ames, not the newly married Natalie
Taylor
. I’ll wake up back-

I frown; where indeed? Back with Vince? Back in my awful excuse for a life as someone’s life accessory?

I scowl into the mug in my hands - yeah,
some choice
.

But here I am,
married
. I got
married
.

In Las Vegas.

Austin looks about as terrible as I feel, which, though cruel sounding, does actually make me feel better. And he’s right - I’m fairly certain nothing happened last night. Well, aside from the rock on my finger. But psychically
,
I don’t think we actually got to that. I can remember kissing him –
Lord,
do I remember that much. In multiple bars and clubs, in that damn limousine, in the lobby of the hotel-

I cringe, suddenly wondering exactly how much of my night I’ll be reminded of in freaking tabloid papers, seeing as my new “husband” is apparently a world-famous sports star.

Yeah, I don’t follow sports of any kind in any way, but I’m
kicking
myself over how I could’ve managed not to put a name, or a face, or any of it to glimpses I can now recall on the cover of grocery store tabloid magazines.

“Okay, we can deal with this.”

I look up to see Austin rubbing his temples and staring haggardly into his own coffee.

“Uh,
yeah
, we get a divorce,” I mutter.

“Well, hang on now.”

I jerk my head up, narrowing my eyes at him.

“I mean, the deal was
to get married, after all.”

My jaw drops. “For the last time, it was to get
fake
married,” I hiss.

Austin shrugs, waving his hand as if what I’ve just said is inconsequential.

“Whatever, yeah, but we were going to get fake
divorced
later.”

I make a face. “Oh
were
we?”

He raises a brow at me. “Uh, yeah, of course we were. This wasn’t for forever, obviously, just until I could get my image together a little bit. You’d meet someone else, leave me-”

I bark out a laugh. “You
arrogant
prick.”

“What?”

“
I
leave
you
?” I glare at him. “Why am I the heartless bitch who does the cheating and leaving in this scenario?”

He frowns. “Hey, I’m paying for
my
image, not yours.”

We glare at each other in silence, quietly sipping coffee as we shoot daggers at one another with our eyes.

Finally, he puts his mug down and steeples his fingers. “So we’ll wait, and get a
real
divorce later.”

I swear under my breath.

“I’ll pay for it, of course.”

I snort. “Damn right you will.”

Austin rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbles. “We’ll work out who leaves who and why later, but for now.”

He shakes his head, knitting his brow.

“Fuck, for now, we’re married.”

“Fine.” I glare down at the table and push an empty sugar packet across the plastic surface.

Austin clears his throat. “So, uh, this is a little awkward, but now that we’re legally married…” he trails off and I frown.

“What?”

He shrugs. “I, uh, I need to protect myself.”

I see red for a second as I debate throwing my coffee right in his prick face.

“
Excuse me?!
You’re the gross man-whore here.”

“No, not that,” he says, snorting out a chuckle. “I mean financially.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“I need a prenup.”

I laugh. “Fuck you.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, so am I. Do I look like a gold digger?”

He frowns. “Well, no, I’m just saying-”

“
Fine
, Austin.” I drop my head back against the booth behind me, grumbling up at the ceiling. I just want this to be over with.

“Fine, I’ll sign a freaking prenup, okay?”

I turn my face back to him. “Although I’m pretty sure the ‘pre’ part of ‘pre-nuptials’ means I sign it
before
we get married.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “Eh, shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll call my lawyer.”

I frown into the coffee on the Formica table between us. “Whatever, just have it written up and I’ll sign it.”

We sit in silence another minute, a million thoughts blowing through my still-aching head as I try and begin to wrap my mind around what’s going on.

“So, now what,” I mumble, looking up at him.

“Now we should probably get back to LA and face the music.” He makes a face. “I haven’t even turned my phone back on, but I’m sure I’ve got about a million messages.”

I give him a look. “Right, cause you’re famous.”

Austin grins. “You know, if you’d turned on the television once or twice in the last two years, you might’ve recogni-”

“Okay, okay,” I grumble, rubbing my temples. “Can we leave Las Vegas now? I think we’ve done
quite
enough damage for one trip.”

He smirks. “You don’t want to stay another day and see if we can top last night?”

I roll my eyes, suppressing the grin on my face. “Unless you want to knock over a casino or murder a stranger, I don’t think that’s going to be possible.

Austin leans back in the booth across from me, lacing his hands behind his head. “Hey, you know, you
could
be a murderer and I’d never know it.” He shrugs, grinning at me irritatingly. “I mean, I’m taking a real risk here getting back in a car with you.”

I give him a look as I slide out of the booth and stand shakily. “Tiny violins, buddy.”

He laughs as he drops some cash on the table and stands, offering me an arm. “So, now we go play the part then. Ready, dear?”

* * *

I
stare
out the window at Vegas receding into the background in the side window. Well, so, that happened. Somehow I’ve jumped from whatever my sham life was with Vince to the biggest sham I can imagine - legally married to the most infuriating man on the planet. Legally married, even though it’s fake - even though he’s paying me $500,000.

He wasn’t infuriating when he was just some gorgeous stranger in a bar whom you kissed like a crazy person.

And I hate the thought that comes to my mind, but there it is, with a finger right in my face. Because the biggest sham of all might be me trying to convince myself that being around Austin Taylor is the worst thing ever.

Because really, it might not be that bad at all.

I scowl at the traitorous thought as we speed through the desert back to LA - back to the real world, back to my
new
world as
Mrs
. Austin Taylor.

F
or some reason
, the ride back to the real world outside the glitter and tinsel of Vegas seems to take three times as long as it took to get here. And it could be that I’m still epically hung over from the frankly inhuman amount of tequila and champagne I consumed last night, but I get the feeling it’s more than that.

Maybe it’s what happened in Vegas sure as
shit
isn’t going to stay there.

Because what happened in Vegas is glittering on her finger like an obnoxious little reminder, catching every fucking ray of afternoon sun through the windshield and reflecting it right into my eyes. What happened in Vegas is slumped in the seat next to me - sexy as sin in that little white dress, but scowling out the window like she wishes she could just stay back there.

And of course, there’s the other distraction - the distracting fact that my Vegas souvenir is fucking gorgeous. Even scowling, and sullen with her face to the window like that, she just radiates this hot sort of energy that has me glancing at her every quarter mile.

The dress she’s wearing from the night before is hiked high on her thigh, showing a dangerously distracting amount of her toned leg. One strap of her dress hangs halfway down her shoulder, and though it might look disheveled or sloppy on any other girl in the world, it somehow just looks fucking great on her - like this little touch of character that sets her apart.

She’s got a finger from one hand stuck between her perfect, soft lips - chewing at the nail as she stares out the window with those big blue eyes. As I glance over, her other hand comes up and brushes a stray lock of hair back from her face to tuck it behind her ear.

And that damn ring glints right at me - that huge, gaudy, absurdly extravagant ring.

I make a mental note to check in with my credit card company and see exactly what I paid for that fucking thing.

And it should get me furious. I should still feel like I got fucking taken for a ride here. But a little tough when I know the truth of it is that she got taken for as big of a ride as I did.

I smirk to myself.
Or DIDN’T get taken for a ride, as we’ve established with the unopened condoms.

The irony here is that for all of the wild, insane, x-rated porn-star shit I’ve pulled with hundreds of girls over the years, this one’s a first. This is something new.

Marriage.

I could almost laugh out loud right there in the car like an insane person.

Hell, I’ve done literally everything else when it comes to women - every damn crazy, acrobatic, or chauvinistic fantasy you can think of? Yeah, done it.

Twice.

But this is a new one, and one that sure as shit wasn’t ever on my bucket list.

I
married
a girl. Not fake-married, but
real, actual, legally-binding
married.

And I don’t remember a goddamn thing about it.

There are glimpses, of course, but they’re really just emotions that come swirling back through my head like watercolors more than actual memories.

And on the bright side, at least they’re happy emotions. I can remember feeling like everything was goddamn perfect last night. I can remember feeling like I’d won something bigger than any championship, or Super Bowl ring, or endorsement.

Yeah, cause you were stoned and drunk out of your mind, idiot.

It’s a fair point, but I want to believe - or at least
hope
that it’s something more than that.

Natalie turns suddenly, totally busting me right as I was checking her out, and she glares at me.

“
What?
”

I shake my head and turn back to the endless desert highway in front of me. “Nothing.”

“Well, quit staring at me.”

I laugh. “You know what, I’ll stare all I want. First of all, you’re my
wife-
”

“
Fake
wife.”

I turn and wink at her. “No, princess.” I grin at her, almost laughing at how scowling and pissed off she is at me, like actually marrying her was my evil plan all along or something.

Please
.

I blow her an air kiss. “That piece of paper in my jacket pocket says it’s pretty real, actually.” I grin. “I mean, at least in the opinion of the State of Nevada.”

She groans. “God, you
kept
it?”

“The wedding license?” I make a face. “Well of
course
I did,
dear
. For our scrapbook of course!”

She glares right back at me and I blow her another kiss. “Doing okay over there darling?”

“That’s going to get old
real
fast, you know.”

I laugh, seeing that pouty little scowl still etched across her face.

“Get used to it, sweet cheeks,” I say with a grin. “Oh, and I like my dinner at seven sharp, just so you know.”

Natalie barks out a laugh. “You’d
better
be kidding.”

I shrug. “Well, you
are
my wife, and I guess I’m just an old-fashioned kinda guy.”

“You’re going to be the kind of guy who finds poison in his food if you keep that up.”

I laugh, reaching over to flick on the radio. “There’s my loving bride.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to the window as I crank up the Creedence Clearwater and stomp on the gas. “Happy honeymoon, princess.”

N
atalie keeps
that petulant little frown on her face all the way into LA, all the way, in fact, until I start to take the car up into the Hollywood hills to the house I bought three months ago.

She suddenly turns to me. “Jesus, you live here?”

“The hills? Yeah, why?”

“More of a movie-star neighborhood, isn’t it? Don’t you play sports?”

I snort. “Football; I play
football.
” I shake my head. “You know, now that you’re married to the NFL’s number one quarterback, you should
probably
start watching some Sports Center or something.”

“Yeah, pass.”

I shrug as I take the car around a corner and accelerate up the hill. “Well, if you did, you’d know that I’m making
more
than most of the movie stars in this ‘movie-star’ neighborhood right now.”

Natalie rolls her eyes. “I
do not
want to know.”

“Sure you do. Hell, the contract was all over ESPN anyways.”

She shakes her head. “I really don’t want-“

“Forty million.”

She whirls
back to me as I suddenly pull us into the driveway that leads up to my place, her mouth wide open.

“You married pretty good, princess,” I say with a grin as I park the car at the top of the driveway.

Natalie’s halfway to the front door of the place when the ferocious sound of Buckley - my mutt of a lab - comes bellowing through the door. Her hand is on the doorknob when I suddenly lurch out of the car.

“Whoa! Hang on, Buckley’s not always the friendliest to new-”

The door pops open, Buckley comes flying out, and…

And he stops, wags his damn tail, and flops over onto his back panting - fucking
putty
in her hands.

Wait, what?

“People,” I finish, raising a brow at Buckley, who’s now on his back, belly presented for rubs, and wagging his tail - happy as a fucking clam as Natalie lavishes him with love.

She turns, shrugging. “Well he seems like a sweetheart to me.” She crouches down to scratch Buckley’s ears. “
Yes you are! Aren’t you Buckley!
”

The little traitor licks her hand.

What the fuck. This dog
hates
anyone coming too near me - women especially for some reason. Buckley’s cock-blocked me more than literally anything else ever, because he can’t stand when I bring a girl home and ignore him for her.

And he’s
loving
Natalie.

Man’s best friend, huh?

Natalie stands and steps into the house, and Buckley trots over, as if suddenly remembering he should say hi to me too.

“So much for loyalty, huh pal?” I mutter, giving him a quick ear scratch before I head in after Nat.

“Jesus Christ, where the
fuck
have you- oh.”

Kyle - my best friend and the only person in the world I’d be okay with being in my house when I wasn’t home - comes to a halt as he storms around the corner from my kitchen. He blinks quickly behind his glasses as he notices Natalie.

“Well hey,” he grins, pushing hair out of his eyes and adjusting his glasses as he squares his shoulders a little more.

Yeah, it’s a little eye-rolling, but at the same time, I’m proud of Kyle. Six years ago when we met as freshmen roommates, the kid hadn’t ever even seen a pair of tits that weren’t on the internet. He had the confidence of a damn kitten, and the social skills of the Unabomber.

I’d like to think I changed that.

Because for some reason, despite being the most opposite people in the world, we clicked. He kept me grounded, reminded me I was a person and not some campus deity, and more importantly, he was there when shit with my dad started to get rough again back home. I got him out, got him laid, and helped him find the pair I knew he had.

Loyalty means a lot to me.

He’s grinning at Natalie, looking downright cocky now.

Watch it, pal.

I can’t take all the credit, of course. The guy turned his life around. Started playing a tad less video games, started getting out more, started working out and eating right, and started actually talking to girls.

This recent boost of cockiness comes from him being a goddamn genius and selling some facial recognition software thing to the Army. A little multi-million-dollar government check never hurts in the confidence or pulling-tail game, I’ll say that.

I cough, yanking his attention away from Natalie, and he raises an eyebrow at me as he darts his eyes between the two of us.

“Right, yeah. Nat, meet Kyle, my butler.”

“Dick.”

I grin. “Kyle, meet Natalie-”

“Hey Natalie, nice to-”

“-My wife.”

Kyle stops in his tracks and jerks his head back to me. “Uh,
what?
”

I frown, bringing a hand up to rub my still sore temples.

“It’s a long story,” Natalie mutters.

“Yeah, no, it sounds…”

Kyle scratches his head as he slowly nods, raising a brow at me. “Well, what happens in Vegas, huh?”

Natalie groans.

* * *

“
S
o
, it’s all a sham?” Kyle gives me a look as he leans against my fridge, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or are you actually married?” He shakes his head. “I’m confused.”

We’re all sitting around the island range in my kitchen - Natalie and I sucking down Gatorade to chase the lingering demons of our post-wedding hangover.

“How have you
not
heard about this yet?” I hold up the cell phone I’ve just been dumb enough to turn back on, the screen flashing with something like four-hundred text messages and probably triple that in emails.

Kyle shrugs. “Hey, I’ve been coding here at your place all day while they finish the flooring at my place. Been on media blackout.”

“Well, surprise.”

“So much for that whole ‘keeping it a secret’ thing,” Natalie says flatly.

I shrug. “It’s Kyle, we know all each other’s dirty little secrets. I mean I was there when he punched his v-card.”

“Dude!” Kyle glares at me and I grin.

Natalie arches a brow at the two of us. “Oh, that’s, uh-”

“No, not like,
there
there, just, you know, I helped.”

“Will you stop talking?” Kyle groans. “He means he fed me enough alcohol to sleep with Erica Hopewell, the campus…uh, you know.”

Natalie snorts into her Gatorade and Kyle gives me the finger. “Anyways, we can move on from this conversation, you know, whenever,” he mutters. He turns back to Natalie. “So, you’re married, for real.”

“The real deal,” she says, taking another swig of Gatorade and pushing her hair out of her face. Her hand drops down from her hair, and I notice her eyes drop to linger on the ring there on her finger.

“This part of that whole image thing Derek’s been all about?”

“Take a wild guess.”

Kyle grins and shakes his head, pulling at the beer in his hand as Natalie and I stand there slumped against the counter sipping our electrolytes. He turns to her. “And how the hell did you let him talk you into this?”

“I’m paying her five-hundred-grand.”

Natalie glares at me. “Do you think you could you
not
tell people that?”

I grin. “What, seller’s remorse?”

“No it just makes me sound like a prostitute.”

We glare at each other for a full three seconds before Kyle claps his hands together.

“
Well
, this is already looking like my parents, and seeing as you guys are on your honeymoon right now and all, I’m going to get out of your hair.”

He turns and shakes his head sympathetically at Natalie. “Honestly,” he grins, “you should’ve asked for a
lot
more.”

“Good
bye
, Kyle,” I growl as he winks and then gives her a quick hug.

“Welcome aboard the Austin-train,” he says with a conspiratorial roll of the eyes that manages to pull a small grin to her face.

“Buckle up.”