Page 1 of Cruel Hate

CHAPTER ONE

PHOENIX

Istood across from Aspen in the beach’s parking lot, and everything locked down hard as I tried to make sense of what she’d said. I couldn’t have heard her right. “What?”

“I need you to be my fake boyfriend.”

Fuck that. “I don’t do relationships.”

With her hands on her hips, she glanced at the pink-and-silver surfboard strapped to the roof of her car then gave me a death stare. “Hence the word ‘fake.’”

“Why?” We stood about a foot apart, tension and attraction snapping between us like a live wire. It was impossible to tell because her stomach was flat, but I knew it was my baby she was carrying.It might be a good idea to get her a new surfboard that says precisely that: baby on board.I waited for an explanation, fascinated by the uneasy expression that crossed her beautiful face as thunderous waves crashed against the shore.

“It’s alumni weekend, and my parents are coming.”

Things clicked into place. “It’ll be easier to tell them about the baby if they meet me first?”

She leaned against her beat-up, rusty, gold Honda Civic. “Yeah. I’m having dinner with them tonight, and my dad will freak out.”

I grinned, liking how this could work in my favor. “I’ll do it so long as you take the vitamins I got for you and keep me in the loop about all things baby.” Having Aspen as my fake girlfriend would help buffer me against aggressive punt bunnies. I had enough on my plate with trying to pass my classes and the healing hand injury—thanks for that, Shane—without dealing with the distraction of girls.

She rolled her sky-blue eyes. “Fine.”

“When and where?”

A strand of Aspen’s honey-blond hair fell against her cheek, and I had to stop myself from reaching out and tucking it behind her ear. She was so soft and fucking sexy as hell, but neither one of us needed the added complication of me hitting on her.

“Dylan’s. The diner just off campus. 5:30.”

I knew the place. It was one of the university’s hangouts. “Do you want to go there together and further solidify the image that we’re dating?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

We agreed to meet at her dorm then walk from there. It wasn’t far. She climbed into her ancient car and drove off, and I headed to my SUV. My mom had to work at the hospital this weekend, so Shane and I weren’t expecting her to come for alumni weekend. Just thinking about my twin brought another wave of stress. He was being a colossal pain in the ass lately. I wanted to talk to him about what was going on with Aspen and how I struggled to keep distance between us, but he wasn’t emotionally available.

But maybe I didn’t have to. It wasn’t as if she could get pregnant again, and I didn’t think she wanted a real relationship, either, given her emphasis on “fake.” I pressed the start button, shifted into gear, then backed out of the parking spot.

The proposition of pretending to be her boyfriend so her parents could ease into the news about the baby made sense. And I had a particularly clingy couple of girls that having a girlfriend might help to shield me from—Jillian, in particular.

I needed to avoid the party scene and girls in general if I had any hope of passing my classes and doing what I was there to do—get into the NFL. It had been my lifelong dream, and I’d be damned if I let any opportunity slide through my fingers.

For the first time since Shane had shoved me while fighting his ex’s date—fucking Tracey—and my hand went through the display case window, I felt lighter. I hadn’t bartered for anything lasting with Aspen, but I was optimistic that eventually, that would change. She would have been a wanted distraction. I had the feeling that if we got to know each other better, she could make concentrating on important things seem easy.

I made it back to campus in time for my only Friday morning class, where I tried to pay attention, then went to the trainers for an evaluation and physical therapy for my hand. Redshirting several games was bad enough, but the initial scare that I’d destroyed my throwing hand had been mind-numbing. The cuts were deep, but the damage was minimal, and the ligaments and nerves were intact.

Thanks to Mom for being an ER nurse—she’d immediately made sure I had the top doctors and medicine. Several weeks had passed since the incident, and the hand was healing rapidly. Everyone was pleased with the progress. But it wasn’t fast enough for me. I wanted back in the game as much as I needed my next breath.

The day flew by, and then it was time to meet Aspen. I crossed campus and parked myself against the brick wall of her dorm, waiting for her to come down. I didn’t have to stand there long. The door burst open, and she rushed out in a flowing see-through top with tiny flowers and spaghetti straps over a formfitting sleeveless blue shirt. It was cute, and the low dip in the front and great cleavage shot was sexy. Tiny jean shorts and delicate sandals made up the rest of her outfit.

Her hair was down, catching in the breeze, and my fingers itched to reach out and slide through the sun-streaked strands. I imagined cupping the back of her head and leaning in to feel those lips on mine. I blinked, pushing the fantasy away.God, what is this girl doing to me?I took her hand instead, to keep myself in check. Even that touch made my heart kick into overdrive. It was unexpected, but at the same time, it wasn’t. I felt suddenly more aware of her and ran my thumb back and forth over her soft skin on the back of her hand in an almost-unconscious manner. “Ready?”

“Mm-hmm.” Her fingers tightened around my hand.

As I led her through campus and toward the diner, it occurred to me that I didn’t know anything about the people I was about to meet. “Tell me about your family.”

“Not much to tell. I have a sister that’s a year younger. My parents are divorcing but living in the same house, so it’s a war zone when Regan and I visit.”

“What do you mean by ‘visit’? Doesn’t your sister live there?”

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