Page 1 of A Different Kind of Hooker

Prologue

The lights on the clock mocked me mercilessly, but I was used to it. I stared up at the hotel room ceiling, and I knew that sleep was going to escape me again tonight. You’d think that after fighting grown ass men for a full eighty minutes that my body would welcome sleep, but it wasn’t my body that wasn’t tired. My mind and eyes were wide awake, and nothing over-the-counter had been able to help so far. As for anything that could be prescribed, I wasn’t about to fail a drug test or have my judgement on the field questioned. Luckily, it was already May, and our season ended in just a few weeks.

Reaching for my phone, I pulled up the first social media feed to pop up, then started scrolling through the public suggested posts and videos. However, instead of searching for something interesting, I was looking for something that would bore me enough to put me to sleep. Having tried alcohol, sex, reading, nature noises, blackout curtains, and a safe amount of cough syrup, I’d been left with scrolling through my phone, hoping to find something to put me to sleep.

As my thumb ran across the screen, I started to wonder how long a person could go without sleep. The insomnia had started about three weeks ago, and I had no idea why. I’d never had any problems with sleep, either falling into it or staying in it. In fact, up until sleep had started evading me, I’d been as healthy as a horse. Playing rugby wasn’t for the weak, so I worked out, ate right, and got my recommended amount of rest. Still, after the Hampshire victory those few weeks ago, my brain and the need for sleep weren’t connecting.

The laughter and noise coming from the hallway caught my attention, but I knew better than to go check on what was going on. Though rugby wasn’t as popular in the US as a lot of other sports, it was popular enough in the right states. California, Texas, and New York were the states with more than one team, and there were twelve total teams nationwide. So, in the states and towns where rugby was played, there were quite a bit of female fans that got off on the aggressiveness of the sport. The noise in the hallway was the familiar sounds of some of those female fans with one or three of my teammates.

As I turned my attention back to my phone, my thumb stopped on a very pretty auburn-haired beauty that looked like she was going to bake something. While I had nothing against cooking or baking in general, watching someone measuring out flour seemed like a good way to put me to sleep. I raised the volume on my phone, and with any luck, her voice would be soothing enough to knock me out.

Okay, so…this is only my second video, and if there’s any justice in the world, everyone will forget the first video that I made and give me another chance.

My lips quirked. Her voice sounded low and husky, almost like she had a sore throat, and it sounded sexy as hell, though that’s not what I needed right now.

Today, I’m going to try cupcakes.She stared down at the arrangement in front of her, looking a bit confused.I mean, you can’t really mess up cupcakes, right? The directions are on the box, and you only have to frost the top.

She had muttered that last part as if she were talking to herself, and I found myself wanting to find out how this attempt was going to end up. Based on her opening line, her first video must have ended up in failure. Luckily, based on her profile, it showed that she had two videos in her history, so I was definitely going to have to check out her first attempt at cupcakes, or whatever she’d been trying to bake.

An hour and a half later, her NASCAR-themed cupcakes looked like they’d been baked by a three-year-old, and her kitchen looked a mess. Granted, she wasn’t looking squeaky clean herself, but what amazed me the most? She wasn’t crying or making up excuses for her failure. She was studying the mess like she really had no idea how she could fuck it up so badly, but she didn’t seem upset.

When her Bambie-eyes looked back up at the camera, she looked tired, but not beaten.

Well, that didn’t go as planned.She pursed her lips, taking a moment.Okay, well, we’ll try again later. So, for those four viewers that I have, I appreciate your time, and if you can stick with me just a little bit longer, I’m sure I’ll find something that I’m good at.

I stayed awake for another two hours, only with a pretty brunette on my mind this time.

Chapter 1

The Little Things.

Heron~

Idropped my bag on the couch, happy to finally be home. Though I loved playing rugby, jetlag was a real thing. If I were getting any kind of decent sleep, I might not be so damn sour. However, since that wasn’t the case, this was my life right now.

I also knew that I had only a few hours of solitude before I was going to have to call my mom to let her know that I was home. Though I always texted my parents of my comings and goings, Mom insisted on a phone call whenever I got home from an away game. Luckily for me, I’d been raised by two decent human beings, so I didn’t mind still checking in with them at the age of thirty-three.

My father, Darnold Treyton, was a firefighter, and while he’d raised me to be my own man, he had also raised me to believe in the importance of family. My mother, Rebecca Treyton, was a schoolteacher, and while she had raised me to use my head, she had also encouraged me to follow my dreams. Hence, why I played rugby five months out of the year. While not glamorous, I loved the sport, and I was lucky to be able to do what I loved.

Now, while I played rugby five months out of the year, the other seven months of the year were spent working with my father as a fellow firefighter. So, my mom’s worrying came about honestly. When I had decided to become a firefighter like my father, she’d been proud, but like all mothers, her concern for me had risen a notch. Though she knew that my father would never let anything happen to me, it couldn’t be easy for her to not worry about us. So, as a way to repay her for all her love and support, I had chosen one career that could kill me, and another one that could result in permanent injury. Yay me.

Granted, with the rugby season ending in June, I always took a few weeks off before going back to work at the fire station. During those weeks, I liked to spend as much time as I could with my little brother and sister, twins that had come as a surprise to everyone. Oliver and Olivia were fifteen and hadn’t been planned. I’d been eighteen, ready to see the world and free my parents of all their parental obligations, when Mom had produced a positive pregnancy test. Luckily, though not planned, the twins had been very wanted, and they were both great kids. However, with the eighteen-year age gap, I wasn’t as close to them as I wanted to be, so I did my best to see them when I could. Considering they’d be on summer break during my time off, I packed as much quality time with them into those few weeks as I could. Plus, it gave my parents a small break.

Now, while both jobs were physically demanding, I loved what I did. One job entertained the masses, the other saved lives, and I felt like it was a good balance in my life. Granted, it made dating hard, but with the birth of the twins, I no longer had the pressure of providing grandchildren for my parents if time ended up getting away from me. If I never got myself a wife, then Oliver or Olivia could make it up to my mom and dad. Besides, I wasn’t eager about settling just to meet society’s expectations of how a man my age should be living.

There was also the fact that lots of women weren’t too keen on dating a man that played sports or worked a dangerous job. Women liked stability, and my life was far from stable. While it was secured financially, and I considered myself a good man, the physicality of rugby and running into burning buildings made my life pretty unstable. Women weren’t enthusiastic about signing up for a life that could leave them taking care of me for the rest of their lives or turn them into a widow in the blink of an eye.

When my phone chimed in my back pocket, I pulled it out, certain that it was my mother. I couldn’t stop my grin as I saw the name flashing across the screen.

“What’s up?”

“With Mother’s Day out of the way, what are you doing for Memorial Day?”

If I had a best friend, it’d be Sean Rian, one of my fellow teammates. He was a fly-half, and one of the best in the league. He was one year younger than me, though he had an inch on me when standing side-by-side. He looked like your classic Irish lad with his red hair, hazel eyes, and ability to drink most people under the table. He was also a devout family man, and whenever we had an open holiday on our schedule, Sean was always inviting me to join him, his wife, and three kids for whatever they had going on. The man was a people-person, and God bless him.

“Not sure,” I answered. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to my parents yet.”

“Well, we’re having a barbecue at my place, and you can bring the rest of the family if you want,” he offered graciously.

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