Most Valuable Playboy

There I go again. Drifting back to her. I chase away thoughts of the woman I want and try to focus on being in the moment with my friends. Today’s not the day to fess up.

Jones adjusts his glove as he chats with his brother. Nearby, Rick and his best friend from college down their morning coffee, while Harlan ambles over to us, along with his brother-in-law. This is our regular crew, and we try to play once a month.

“Hey, man, any word on the contract?” Trent asks as he finds his club.

“It’s anyone’s guess. The GM might be waiting to see if we make the playoffs. I’m trying my best to keep it out of my mind.”

“The real judge of a quarterback is whether he takes his team to the post-season,” Trent says absently. He takes a few practice swings as if he hasn’t just hit the nail on the head with regard to the waiting game I’m playing with the GM.

“Don’t I know it,” I say, a small prickle of nerves skating up my back. I’d really like to know if I’m going to be in San Francisco after this season. It’s entirely possible the Renegades won’t pick me up, and I’ll have to fly where the free agent skies take me. Baltimore, Buffalo, Houston, New Orleans—who knows? Tension winds through me. I’m a lucky bastard to play in my hometown, and I don’t want to give up seeing my friends and family this often. I raise my gaze to my teammates. I love these fuckers, too. I want to stick with them. I want to take them all the way into January and beyond.

“Guess that means you’ll be keeping up the dog-and-pony show with Violet for a little longer?”

My golf bag is suddenly the most interesting thing in the universe, and I take my sweet time hunting for my driver. “As long as we have to, I guess. You cool with that?”

“I’m cool with it. Even though it’s really fucking weird to see you with her.”

I look up. “Because I’m such an asshole, right?” I say with a mischievous grin.

“You’re a total dickhead.”

“But seriously. Why is it so weird?” I press him, expecting him to make another playboy comment, like he did at his bar. But that’s not what he says.

“You’ve never gone ass over elbow for a girl. You’re married to football, Coop.” Then he strolls to the tee at the first hole.

I stand, unmoving, smacked upside the head by a hefty dose of reality. I’ve never been head over heels, and that’s why my breakup with Kelly in college didn’t faze me. Briefly, I wonder if my pretend breakup with Violet will hurt when it comes. Immediately, my chest twists at that unpleasant thought. Breakup and Violet are two words that shouldn’t occupy the same sentence, and if I let my mind wander in this direction, I’m going to play a shitty game of golf.

I want to enjoy the hell out of my day off, since I enjoyed every single second of my late night.

I’ve just started to the tee when Jones stops me with a strong hand on my arm. He nods to Trent. “He has no clue how you really feel?”

“What?” I ask, brow furrowed.

“How you feel about his sister,” he says out of the corner of his mouth.

I give him a blank look.

Jones laughs. “That’s priceless. That expression on your face. Almost like you believe your own bullshit.”

“My expression is that you’re about to ruin a beautiful game of golf.”

His chuckles continue. “You might be able to fool someone who doesn’t want to see you’re nuts for his sister, but you can’t fool me. I heard how you talked about her to Jillian. You’re in so far over your head.”

I level him with my gaze. “And I saw the way you looked at Jillian. Think you might be in over your head?”

Now his expression is blank. “What are you talking about?”

“C’mon. You know she doesn’t date players.”

Jones rolls his eyes. “Don’t even try to change the subject to matchmaking games.”

“Watch me change it again.” I point to the green. “Time to take my shot.”

“But you know, Jillian is a badass babe,” he says.

I grin and nod in acknowledgment.

I’d have to say the same is true for Violet, and when I’m done losing terribly at golf, I take off for Sausalito.

21

When you’re raised solo by a strong single mom, you learn certain things. How to live on a budget—ramen is your friend. How to do laundry at a very early age—if you hear my mom tell the stories, I was separating whites and darks at three years old. How to treat a woman—don’t show up out of the blue without a gift.

That’s why I stroll into the hair salon on Monday afternoon with a bouquet of violets. They’re stunning, a rich royal purple, and they’re tied with a silver ribbon.

“Hello, Sage,” I say with a broad smile to the receptionist with the metallic-colored hair.

She giggles. “Hi, Cooper.”

“I’m looking for the lovely lady who runs this shop.”

“I’ll get her for you,” she says with a huge grin, her bangles jingling as she rises. “She’s nearly finished with a cut.”

“I’ll just wait then,” I say, and make my way to the white couch.

But before I can park my ass, the click-clack of heels echoes across the floor. “You look gorgeous, Dani. And you are going to have the best time on your trip. I can’t wait to hear all about it,” Violet says to a customer, and when I hear her voice, a strange feeling erupts in my chest, like bubbles. I’m a goddamn soda bottle near her. Maybe that’s what’s going on with this odd sensation, like my world is suddenly effervescent.

“And you know I’ll tell you everything. I always do,” the woman replies.

I turn to see Violet hugging a high-cheekboned blonde, whose hair falls in pretty curls over her shoulders. I suppose I should admire Violet’s handiwork, and how lovely the woman’s ’do looks. But my eyes are on the brunette and that little black skirt she wears, paired too seductively for my own good with black boots that reach her thighs.

Those thighs.

My face fits so fucking well between those thighs.

And now my dick is sitting up and taking notice.

Focus on her face, idiot.

But that only intensifies matters because . . . those eyes that glitter, that skin that glows, those lips curved in a surprised but happy smile . . .

The bubbles are gone. Now I’m just burning with lust.

“Hi. I wasn’t expecting you,” she says as her client leaves.

I hold out the bouquet. “I brought you flowers.”

Violet’s smile grows even wider as she takes them. “They’re gorgeous.”

“Like you.”

Sage giggles, and from a nearby salon chair, an audible sigh falls from a customer’s lips as another stylist snips her locks.

Violet brings the flowers to her nose and inhales. “They smell sweet.”

Like you, I mouth, just to her.

A pink flush spreads over her cheeks. “Let me get water for them. Follow me back?”

“Of course.”

As Violet escorts me through the salon, a few heads turn, and a woman parked under a hair dryer snaps her gaze to us and widens her eyes. I’m all smiles as I follow the most beautiful girl in the room, the town, the whole damn city. The view is stupendous. Her ass looks fantastic in that tight skirt, the fabric hugging her curves deliciously.

“I have a vase somewhere in the utility closet,” Violet says, glancing back at me as she walks past the shampooing sinks. She flashes me a smile that says we have a secret. That secret is I know what she sounds like when she comes on my lips.