Page 31 of Black Roses

I watch intently as she picks at the white linen, knowing she’s thinking deep thoughts, and I wonder if my being a dad is going to be an issue for her. She’s only twenty-one, well twenty-two, but still she may be too young to take on the responsibility of being with a guy who has a kid. Because she’s right—I’d do anything for Hailey. And no matter how much I want Piper Mitchell, if she can’t accept my daughter, that’s a certified deal breaker.

chapter thirteen

piper

My heart pounds so hard against my chest wall, I’m sure Mason can hear it. Thankfully, our waiter interrupts what I’m sure would have been a very awkward conversation, depositing meals in front of us that I imagine should come from a diner with red-and-white-checkered tablecloths, not a high-class restaurant with expensive linen ones.

An unexpected smile cracks my face. “You bring me to this fancy restaurant; one that actuallydoeshave attendants in the bathroom that would probably wipe my ass; and you order me barbeque?” I laugh, looking at the slop of Carolina pulled pork on top of a thick Kaiser roll.

“I’ll never forget that first night we met,” he says. “When we had the argument about you being an athlete. I’m sure you remember the one?” He winks at me and I roll my eyes. “You had barbeque sauce in the corner of your mouth and I can’t even begin to tell you what I would have done to be able to wipe it off.” I try unsuccessfully not to grin at the visual in my head. “I knew you probably would have kicked the shit out of me. And now, after seeing you box the way you do, I know it for a fact. But I thought, since we’re on a date and all, that if it happened again, you’d be kind enough to let me wipe it.”

For the second time tonight, I feel heat creep across my face and I’m sure my cheeks are pinking up to match the shade of my borrowed lipstick. I fidget nervously with my bracelet and then pick up my wine, absentmindedly putting it to my mouth, allowing the liquid to touch my lips before I realize what I’ve done. My eyes go wide and I quickly put down the glass and wipe the wetness from my frown.

“Something wrong with the wine?” He sniffs his before taking a drink.

I shake my head. “No. I guess I’m just not a big fan of Chardonnay,” I lie.It’s my favorite. “Sorry.”

“I’ll get you something else. What would you like?”

“Nothing, thanks. I think I’d like to dig into this great-smelling sandwich.”

He pushes the tiny serving bowl of barbeque sauce towards my plate. “Don’t forget to really load up,” he says, smiling.

I laugh. “I was right,” I say, trying to get a grip on the pile of meat, dripping sauce from a bun that’s larger than my hands. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Who said I was incorrigible?”

“Nobody.” I get some sauce on my finger and lick it off. I look over at Mason who is watching the action intently, his dilating eyes trained on my lips as I see him shift around in his chair. I didn’t mean anything sexual by it. I really was just licking my finger. But the way he’s looking at me right now, it’s like he wants to eat me alive. And every part of my body, right down to the cells that make up my beating heart, is afraid that’s exactly what he wants to do.

But the same parts of me are also terrified that it’s not.

I stare at him, wondering how the simple act of me licking a finger could make him lose his shit. “All football players are alike. You think you can get whatever you want, whenever you want without regard to anyone. And you never change. I know what goes on. I’ve heard about plenty of famous players in their forties who are on their third wives, girlfriends on the side, and a felony assault charge that was conveniently dropped to boot. What is it about being famous that makes you think you can disregard all the rules of basic humanity?”

I immediately regret my words. I know I said them out of fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what this date could lead to. Maybe I’m sabotaging the night on purpose. He’s never given me any reason to doubt his intentions or his humanity.

He puts down his fork and looks me directly in the eye. “That’s not me, Piper. I’m not like Charlie’s mom, if that’s what you think. I don’t believe the world is at my disposal. I don’t expect things to get handed to me on a silver platter. I fight for what I want. And right now I want two things—football and you.”

My breath catches, his words taking me completely off guard. He doesn’t give me time to respond. “I know football players get a bad rap for being . . . well, for beingplayers, but I’m not like that. I’ll admit I wasn’t careful when I was younger. I made a mistake. I got careless. But I’m not a bad person. Have I done anything to make you think I am?”

“What about at the airport?” I ask.

“Airport?”

“When you gave that woman your phone number.”

“Huh?” He tilts his head and studies my face. “What woman?”

“The one with the kid. I think he was lost and you helped him find his mother. Then you gave her your phone number. Are you telling me that’s not being a player?”

The strong muscles of his jaw try to suppress a smile before the features of his face soften with boyish charm. “It was an autograph, Piper. Not a phone number. I talked about football to try and calm him down. Turns out his dad was a big fan, so he asked his mom if it was okay for me to give him an autograph.”

“An autograph?”

He shrugs; a slow graceful movement of one muscular shoulder.

I close my eyes and shake my head. “I’m sorry. You’ve actually been pretty nice to me considering some of the things I’ve said to you. But how do you know you won’t become those people? I mean, you’re just at the beginning of being famous. What happens if you get that starting position? What happens when women throw themselves at you whenever you leave your apartment? What happens if you want one of them, but they decide they don’t want you? Are you going to just take what you want, Mason?”

He pushes away his half-eaten plate of food, seemingly losing his appetite. He pours the remaining wine into his glass and drinks it in one long swallow. “No, Piper. I’m not going totakewhat I want. But I am willing to fight for it. That’s where I’m different from them—the men in your past.”

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