Page 48 of Dirty Pucking Player

Caleb sets his beer down and leans across the table toward me with a glance at the people around us. “Bash, come on, you slept with your coach. That’s ten times worse than anything else you’ve ever done.”

I shrug. “That people know about.” I flash him a grin and down the rest of my beer. “There are things even you don’t know, my friend.”

He chuckles and relaxes back in his chair. The loud and raucous crowd around us cheers for the game on the TV, and I glance up.

We’re up by three. I kept my eyes on the screen, hoping for a glimpse of her, but they’ve only shown her once. She’s so intense. So focused on the game.

I wonder if she’s even thought about me once since she snuck out of my hotel room while I was still passed out the other day.

“Maybe sleeping with my coach wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made.” My cock twitches, remembering how incredible it felt to be inside her. “But, man, it was so worth it.”

“You’re such a dog.” He tips his beer toward me. “Do you realize how complicated you just made your working relationship with her?”

I offer him another shrug. “Can’t be any more complicated than it already was. I mean, we basically argued every time we saw each other.”

“You argued because she asked you to act more like a human being and you refused.”

I scowl at him. “What’s your point?”

He scoffs and takes a long pull on his beer. “My point, Bash, is that, at some point in time, you’re going to have to grow up and realize that your actions have consequences. Whether it be a suspension”—he waves his hand toward me—“or worse. What’s going to happen when you go back in a few days?”

“What do you mean?”

“Between you and Greer. What’s going to happen?”

I know what I want to happen. I want to be with her again. I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing. Though why I want that, and where I want it to go are still dark, gloomy, indecipherable questions floating around in my head.

Greer is incredible, but I’ve been with a lot of incredible women in my life.

Incredibly beautiful ones—supermodels galore. Incredibly smart ones—it’s always surprising who comes to games and throws themselves at me, even people with doctorates in subjects I can’t even pronounce. Incredibly talented ones—rock stars, actresses, authors, and television hosts. Incredibly sexy ones—women who are practically professionals at sex.

But over the last couple of days, I haven’t been able to think of a single one who has it all—except Greer.

I grab a fry and swipe it through the ranch dressing on my plate. I’ll have to pay later for eating this fried crap, but I’m on “vacation.” I chew slowly and watch Caleb. “How did you know that you wanted more from Tara than just a booty call?”

He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “When I couldn’t stop thinking about her and worrying when we were apart, wondering if she was okay. When I realized the time I had spent with her was the most satisfying and happiest I could remember.”

It makes sense. Caleb has never looked so deliriously happy. Tara and the kids have totally changed how he views the world and his life. He’s a playboy no longer, and even though part of me mourns the loss of my wingman and the carefree lifestyle he used to lead, I have to admit there’s a tiny bit of jealousy there, too.

“I never thought that would be something I want—to settle down and have kids and give up the sport.”

His eyebrows fly up. “You would give it up?”

“I would have to…if I ever wanted that. You know what it was like growing up the way we did. I wouldn’t do that to a woman I was in love with or to a kid.”

He nods sympathetically. “It certainly wasn’t easy on any of you.”

That’s an understatement, but I know he understands. He saw Jameson and Rach struggling to get Dad’s attention when he was home. Caleb saw Mom and me struggling to hide from them how bad things really were between them. He helped me distract them from the fact that Dad cared more about the sport than he did us.

“No. It wasn’t. And the whole marriage and kids thing sure as hell isn’t anything I want anytime soon. Maybe not ever. I’m at the height of my career. Giving that up is out of the question. And even when I’m done…I don’t know…” I shake my head. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that life. I don’t have a clue how to be a good husband or father.”

Caleb offers a sympathetic look. “So, where does that leave things with you and Greer, then?”

I pop another couple of fries in my mouth as I consider his question. “I don’t know. Do I really have to put a name on it or decide what it means right now?”

Can’t we just do what feels good until it stops feeling good?

It seems so simple.

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