Page 91 of Fumbling for Perfection

“Probably not.”

“Why? Got a hot date?”

I could have a hot date, if Riley didn’t already have plans with her father. Since he’s on the road a lot, and they aren’t very close, it isn’t often they get together. It seemed rude and selfish to ask her to put off her father so I could bury myself inside her.

I know all too well how important family relationships are. Or rather, the lack thereof.

“Tell Buck I said thanks for the invite.”

The only other guy on the team who turns down as many invites as I do is Nash Humphries. He’s a single father and doesn’t go out much and keeps to himself more than I do, and he’s been on the team for two years. I don’t know the details of his personal life and haven’t asked. It’s not my thing. Asking questions opens the door for questions to be asked of you.

My usual response to homestead visits is a polite, “Thank you for the invite, but I can’t make it.”

Dec, however, hasn’t learned to read a room. I’ve turned down the last three invites to Buck’s house, and I haven’t partied with the team once. I’m used to the rumors of me being a recovering alcoholic, a monk, or in a religious cult. My favorite is that I live in a brothel and don’t want to share my women with the team. The rumors will keep going until I make my first public outing. That’s when they see I can drink alcohol and not get shit-faced wasted and act like an idiot. And when I agree to go home with a woman, the monk rumors dissipate.

Since I’ve never invited anyone—woman or teammate—back to my place, the brothel rumors the guys in San Francisco concocted became a team favorite. I didn’t mind since I knew most of the guys were kidding around.

I’ve only been in Boston for three months, so they’re all still feeling me out, but my reputation traveled with me.

Dec slaps me on the back. “Enjoy your brothel. Maybe one day you’ll share with the rest of us.”

I give him a sly grin. “You wish, rook.”

“Hell, the least you could do is take me out for breakfast tomorrow morning and share your secret skills.”

“Busy.”

“Bullshit. We have a team meeting in the locker room at noon. No way in Hell you have breakfast plans.” Dec smiles so wide I can see his wisdom teeth poking through the back of his gum line. “Unless you don’t know how to satisfy a woman and need recovery time at night and go for round two in the morning.”

“Little one.” I squeeze his shoulder. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Thank fuck I’m no gentleman.”

I chuckle. “No brothel plans tomorrow. I’ll be at a 5K.”

“Coach will kick your ass if you run a 5K before a game.”

“I’m volunteering for a few hours.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” I toss my duffel over my shoulder and head out to my car.

“Can I come with you?” he hollers across the parking lot.

I let out a snort. “If you can get your scrawny rookie ass out of bed early enough. I’ll be at the Boston Strong volunteer tent at six-thirty.”

“Fuck, man. That’s early.”

“We old folks have a hard time sleeping in.” I settle behind the wheel and fire up the engine.

Sleeping in is a luxury. One I’ve only taken advantage of when I’ve had Riley in my bed, which hasn’t been often enough. I still have a ways to go to prove to her I’m not the asshole I presented myself to be the night of her and Jackson’s almost wedding. Honestly, I didn’t think it would be this hard to win her back.

Part of me is proud of her for not falling so easily. It means she’s not after my money or the notoriety that goes along with dating an NFL player. The other part—my cock—is sadly disappointed it’s been so long since it’s been buried deep inside her.

The following morning, I’m up before my alarm, eager to surprise Riley. I should be more excited about volunteering and helping so many kids get the physical therapy and training they can’t afford on their own, but my personal life is taking precedence over the rest of my life.

There’s a first time for everything.

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