Scored(31)

“Paige?”

“Right here.”

Layton suddenly appears in front of me. “Are you okay?”

“Actually… I feel amazing.”





CHAPTER 12




Dallas


Wednesday is known as hell day for the Renegades, and it’s set on repeat every week of the season. Our trainer pushes us to the max, then makes us go those extra steps to his own personal version of exercise hell. The only good thing I can say about today is that he switched things up by having us spar with a partner.

Luckily for me, I get Aiden.

By luckily, I mean every Irish ancestor on my mother’s side has cursed me because the Renegades All-American quarterback hits like a son of a bitch. Don’t get me wrong, Aiden’s not a little guy by any stretch of the imagination—the dude’s an inch shorter than me and I outweigh him by twenty pounds, which makes him one of the smallest guys on the team. But I’d still rather go up against one of our Hulk-huge linebackers.

It’s like Aiden has a personal vendetta against whoever he gets to fight.

“Little birdie told me you’re making a play for Finley’s sister,” he says and lands a punch to my solar plexus.

“Dude. Not so loud.” I clip him in the jaw, but the fucker smiles like I’ve just given him a love tap.

“Afraid of Finley?”

“Fuck yes.” It doesn’t make me less of a man to admit I fear the woman who holds my public image by the balls. She can squeeze and twist them on a dime.

He rolls his shoulders. “Good.”

We start blocking more punches than we’re landing, the way it should be, in my opinion. We’re on the same team, damn it.

“You got a thing for her?” I ask, just to mess with him.

“No.”

“Then why are you worried?”

“Because you’re using her. She’s good people. Hangs out with good people.”

I take a step back and hold up my gloves, signaling him to stop. “You were the one to challenge me to find a nice girl. I found one.”

“Find a different one.”

“Not happening.” I grab a bottle of water and squeeze, gulping down copious amounts of the refreshing liquid. “Besides, I told her about our bet.”

“Paige went for that?”

“Yeah.” I toss the bottle to the side. “You still into her sister?”

Aiden laughs. “That ship sailed out to sea, caught on fire, and sank to the bottom.”

“No second chances?”

“We’ve second chanced it enough. She’s done. I’m done. We’re fucking toxic together, and I don’t need that shit to fuck with my career. Hell, she’s moved on, and I’m good with that. I’m happy for her. Everything’s peaceful with us for once.”

Aiden is dead serious. I know that look. Not even God can change his mind once it’s made up. That kind of dedication is what makes him one of the best to have ever played the game.

“Now are we through with this sharing-is-caring bullshit, or do you need more me time?” Aiden asks, that stupid-as-fuck smirk on his lips as he steps to me.

I hit him with a right hook to the jaw, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes.

“Looks like you might need some me time. Oh, and I’m the winner of the fucking bet, so pay up, asshole.” I swagger out of the ring like I’ve just won the championship ring, fist bumping most of the team along the way. “Fellas, if you need me, I’ll be soaking in the tub.”

*

After our last team meeting to go over new plays, I hit up Paige on my phone before I drive home in my SUV that I had my assistant arrange to be dropped off at the stadium earlier today. With every letter I tap, I’m cursing my sore knuckles and Aiden’s granite jaw.

I shouldn’t have hit Aiden so hard, but at the time, it felt good as fuck.

Would I do it again?

Hell, yes.

Will Aiden ever let me?

Fuck, no.

Paige: Is this a booty call?

At six in the evening? Maybe that’s the reason for her no-casual-sex rule.

Me: Nope

Paige: Booty text?

Me: Nope

Paige: You literally want to Netflix and chill?

Me: I’m literally too fucking sore to even kiss your sweet lips.

Paige: I’ll be right over… after you give me your address.

I grin and send her the information.

Me: I’ll provide dinner, if you haven’t eaten.

Paige: Starving!

Me: I’ll be ready for you at 6:30. It’ll take you that long to get to my place.

Paige: I’ll bring the event-planning stuff, too. See you in thirty minutes!

“Oh good—she’s blocking me with shop talk,” I mutter, then curse myself for being a dick. The charity event is important to me, and there are a lot of families depending on my foundation’s financial support.

I make it home in fifteen minutes and change into a pair of loose pajama pants. At the last second, I throw on a t-shirt so Paige doesn’t get the wrong idea and leave as soon as she catches me shirtless.

Normally, shirtless gets me sex.

Normally, I don’t date women with no-casual-sex rules.

I don’t date women because of a bet either, but look at me now.