The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel(37)

“Other than my fist breaking his nose, no. I went to the police. But it was pretty much my word against his. Willow didn’t remember anything and had disappeared again by the time they finished their investigation. The whole thing was sealed, and I had to throw him the ball for another two years. I thought I was finally rid of the *, until the Steel’s midseason trade.”

“And then he used me to screw with you by making that comment about sharing.”

“I’m sorry he said anything to you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe. But I’m sorry about the way I acted. And about not coming right to you after the coach reamed me a new *.”

“Did you get suspended?”

“I won’t know until tomorrow. A fine is definite, but I’m hoping that’s all I get. Coach was a lot calmer when I left.”

“Where did you go after you talked to him?”

“I just needed some time to clear my head. Get my shit together before I came to you. I don’t want the past to be part of my future anymore.”

“I appreciate that. I really do.”

“Do you forgive me?”

There was so much more I wanted to know. The least of which was whatever became of Willow. Was she still a part of his life? But looking into Brody’s eyes at that moment, I saw what telling the story had done to him. He really needed a break. “I don’t think I forgive you yet.”

“No?”

“Maybe I will after I get those multiple apologies you promised.”

Brody reached down and grabbed a handful of my ass, squeezing. “There’s nothing else I would like to do than f*ck you full of sorry.”

What became of Willow could certainly wait until tomorrow.





Chapter 17


Delilah

We slept in the next morning, having spent until the sun began to rise working hard on those apologies. Warm water beaded over my achy muscles as I reached out with both hands and braced myself against the shower wall. Closing my eyes, I replayed the way Brody had looked as he’d come undone last night. I wasn’t sure if it was emotions still running high from our talk or not, but the sex had felt special, more intimate. Less like sex and more like making love. The thought made my heart squeeze. The last person I’d felt that with was Drew. I knew it was ridiculous, but a part of me felt guilty for the feelings growing inside of me. Brody had said last night that he wanted to keep the past behind him—I did, too. But in order for me to do that, I needed to tell him that a part of my heart would always be with another man.

I was halfway to my eleven a.m. appointment to interview one of the assistant coaches of the Texas Lions when I got a call that they needed to push back the time until two. Brody had already left for practice, so rather than return to my empty hotel room, I decided to stop for a second, much-needed cup of coffee. The inside of Starbucks smelled of pumpkin and everything fall, which seemed odd considering it was almost eighty outside.

“I’ll have a Pumpkin Spice Latte. I was coming in for a plain old coffee, but the smell got me.”

The tiny barista’s words were spoken rapid-fire, “Tell me about it. I’ve had three already today.” Gee, I’d never have guessed.

“What’s your name?” She pointed her sharpie to a tall cup.

“Delilah.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

My eyes drifted to her nametag. Puma

She caught me noticing. “Yep. It’s my real name. My parents were hippies.”

I tried to sound sincere. “It’s nice. Unique.”

“At least they gave me a cool middle name—Ophelia. That sort of sounds like Delilah. And my married name is nice and simple—Oar.”

I smiled and moved to the other end of the counter to wait for Poo to make my latte.

Settling into an oversized leather chair in the corner, I sipped my Pumpkin Spice Latte and flipped open my MacBook to catch up on the morning news. My tongue prickled as the hot pseudo coffee burnt the tip. Damn it.

When I logged into WMBC’s live news webfeed, my eyes did a double take. There, on the front page of an Associated Press sports article, was a picture of Brody and me coming out of the elevator the other day. It was a shot taken from an angle, but you could clearly see his hand on my ass. Then I read the headline. WMBC Reporter Love Triangle. Underneath, there were a few pictures of the locker room would-be brawl. One showed Colin up against a locker with Brody’s forearm pressed against his neck. Colin’s face wore the same slimy smirk he’d given me when he was taunting Brody.

Shit. How would anyone take me seriously after this?

My phone began to buzz. My office. I took a deep breath and answered, “Delilah Maddox.”

“Did you have underwear on? I blew the shot up on my laptop, and I see absolutely no panty lines.”

Indie. Thank God. I let out a huge breath.

“Am I the laughingstock of the office?”

“No idea. I shut my office door as soon as I saw it come across my feed. I might have spent a few minutes ogling Brody’s chest before I moved on to your ass.”

“You’re supposed to be my eyes and ears.”

“After looking at that picture, I’d much rather be your tits and ass.”

I caught Indie up on everything that had transpired, keeping the details of the actual feud behind Brody and Colin to myself. I didn’t want to betray Brody’s confidence—he’d told the story to the woman he was seeing, not the reporter vying for a story. It was best leaving it at “the two men had history.”