Page 3 of Fumbled Beginning

Yeah, right! That was the only reason. You wanted her for yourself, you fucking hypocrite.

“Yes.” I tilted my head to the side and fired a look at the guy who was watching us with a mixture of curiosity and panic. “You can go now.”

“Wait a second.” His eyes widened with recognition. “You’re JP Watson. Dude, I just watched that clip of you and that reporter on SportsCenter. That was quite a pass you caught.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, wait, you dropped it three yards short of the end zone. Damn, that was brutal. You might want to get that hand checked out. There must be something they can do.” A sneer touched his lips. “Like maybe put super glue on your fingertips.”

My brain went back to every NFL training class I had to sit through and tried to remember every technique I was taught to control my temper because I was two seconds away from punching this guy in the nuts.

I looked around the crowded pub. The last thing the team needed was some bar fight footage showing up tonight on the eleven o’clock broadcast before the playoffs even started.

“You don’t exactly look like you’re in a position to be handing out advice on how to do my job.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He seemed genuinely offended.

I gave him the same condescending laugh he gave me. “Dude, you don’t look like you’ve stepped foot in a weight room in your entire life, and looking at how skinny your arms are, I doubt you could carry my jock strap let alone catch a football moving fifty miles per hour, but I appreciate the laugh,” I said with zero humor in my voice.

“Whoa, you don’t need to be a prick about it. I was just busting your chops.”

A muscle in my jaw ticked as I stared down the little fucker. Although he had a big set of balls on him, I’d give him that.

“Look, dude, if you’re half as smart as you think you are, I’d start taking your photoshopped face to the exit. You’re done here, now buzz off.” I snuck a quick glance over at my teammates, who hadn’t even realized I’d ditched them yet. They would give me shit if they knew I was over here pissing all over Maverick Cross’s little sister.

He held his hands up and shook his head. “This is way too much work. I’m outta here, but you know what?” He turned as he reached the door. “I meant what I said. You can’t catch a ball for shit, bro.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and clenched my fists. I counted to ten and forced myself to calm down.

“Hey, Pinky,” I yelled over the noise as he was about to walk out. “If you even think about contacting her again, I’ll show you exactly what my hands are capable of.”

He flipped me off on his way out the door.

“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.

Rylee leaned back in her seat. Her dainty fingers curved around her martini glass. “You didn’t need to scare him off. I am perfectly capable of defending myself.”

I trailed my eyes down her exposed skin and composed my face quickly. “Really? Are you sure about that, Sunshine?”

“What are you implying?” She scowled like she always did at her nickname. It started out as a joke because she would always glare when I’d try to say something funny, but over time, it stuck. And I was getting the sense that she liked the fact that I gave her a term of endearment, although it might have been wishful thinking on my part.

I kept my face on hers. “You’re only asking for trouble, meeting men on blind dates dressed like that.”

My comment seemed to strike a nerve; something about her temper always made things twitch below the waist. “That’s a sexist statement. Don’t you think you’re being a little judgmental?”

Man, I was really messing this up.

“I’m not trying to be insulting. You look gorgeous, as always.” I winked, thinking a little charm might do me some good. But judging by her death stare, I was losing credibility quickly. “All I’m saying is, you might want to save the nice dresses for when you know a man well enough to trust him to keep his hands to himself.”

It was men like me that she had to worry about.

“You don’t seem to mind dating bimbos who wear far less than this.”

I’ve bedded my fair share of women without any regard for how they dressed. I’ve always been honest and treated them with respect. There were zero expectations involved, so her point was irrelevant.

I leaned in close so she could hear me over the noise in the bar. Her breath hitched when I brought my mouth up to her ear. “I don’t date them Rylee, I fuck them. There’s a difference.”

Her mouth parted open just enough where I could slide my tongue inside. The woman was testing my self-control, and it was the first time I considered this attraction might not be as one-sided as I assumed. “Maybe that’s what I was hoping for.”

It took me a minute to register what she was implying. I wanted to tell her if she was going to hook up with anyone, it would be me, but I didn’t dare say any of that. Hooking up with your friend’s sister might not be illegal, but in this case, it might as well be.

“With him?” I pointed over my shoulder where the pink polo shirt had just left. “I doubt it.”

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