Page 9 of Tight Spot

A body that showed confidence and his ability to please a woman.

Maybe a piercing somewhere. Anywhere.

He had to be strong.

Most importantly, he needed to be a little possessive and a whole lot protective even if he wasn’t looking for forever.

The forever part was what was going to get me out of this.

No man went to Meredith if they were looking for a good time and not a long time.

I sat back in my booth when we were done, grinning behind my wineglass at Meredith’s scowl.

Checkmate to me.

CHAPTER3

DAWSON

Just over four months ago, I was celebrating Christmas alone, exactly how I liked it. I ended the year on a high note. My football team smashed our regular season and our eyes were on planning for the postseason. I had everything I wanted, exactly how I wanted it.

Then Crystal showed up and started wreaking havoc. She might as well have shown up at my house that day with a wrecking ball in tow for as much damage as she caused.

Six weeks after I finally kicked her ass out with a check for a million dollars and telling her it was the last penny she’d ever receive from me, I was still paying for her visit.

Not with money, but with an ultimatum.

“Fans don’t like you, Dawson. They might like the touchdowns you score, but in this day and age where everyone and everything is on social media, your off-the-field attitude matters as much, if not more, than your on-the-field performance.”

“What are you getting at?”

I’d been called to his office the day after my arrest. Fortunately, the man whose face I almost broke in two—by accident, mostly—wasn’t pressing charges if I paid the medical bills.

Fine. Happy to.

I had no doubt they’d be minimal compared to what Rick Marchand, our team’s general manager, had in store for me.

“Your contract is up after next season. You’ll be a free agent. I need a reason to convince the rest of the organization to keep you. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about your personality, or lack of one, but if you want to see the field this season, and stay beyond…”

He waited for me to respond.

“I do.” I absolutely did.

I started my career in Nashville and wanted to end it here. I didn’t have that many more years left. Getting bounced to a new team now, especially with us on the cusp of going to the Super Bowl was not how I wanted to go out.

“Good. Then you need to play for me right now.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

He danced around the topic for several more minutes before finally singing.

Find a girlfriend. A suitable one. Plaster my happy little relationship all over social media. Take the non-required interviews that were now required for me. Meet with our social media manager to get me all over the internet proving what a stable, kind guy I was.

If I wanted to stay in Nashville, I was Rick’s new puppet. A marionette, really, because he basically shoved his fist up my ass and owned me.

Four months later and I had the Super Bowl Championship, an empty, quiet house, and I was no closer to figuring out how to fulfill the deal I’d made with Rick than I was the day I agreed to it.

Time was ticking down though, and I was out of options.

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