THE HARDEST YARDS (A BAD BOY FOOTBALL ROMANCE) Read online

  My single choice: Keep my eye on the goals.

  Bourbon…my sofa…the championship…bourbon…my sofa…the championship…

  I threw my arm over my face to shield the flashes taking more steps back the direction I came. Bare ass or not, I wasn’t hanging around for this. Besides, it’s not like the world hadn’t seen my ass on those cologne billboards a thousand times already.

  “Do you think you’ve let the pressure of the sport get to you?!”

  “Will you be watching Sunday’s game?”

  A weight of helplessness clung on wherever I walked, questions and clicking trailing a few yards behind me.

  “Fuck off!” I boomed.

  Navigating the three-inch gap in my elbow became a chore.

  Flash, flash, flash—!

  “What do you have to say to your fans, Tyler? Do you feel you owe them an apology?”

  Fall to your knees, Tyler. Just do it. It’ll feel better. I’m so tired.

  “How do you feel about Josh Hale taking your position?”

  I quit.

  I couldn’t stay stable.

  Aching knees buckled under me once again.

  “Back off! Back the fuck off!” a woman shouted. “You’re all on private property. My client has a reasonable expectation of privacy and I just passed three signs prohibiting photography. I see so much as one snapshot and I’ll have your press credentials pulled fast enough to make your heads spin. It’s time for all of you to leave.”

  I noticed the blue lights of two security cars pull into the parking lot. This girl wasn’t messing around.

  “Aw, come on, hun, we’re just doing our job here,” one of the leeches pleaded.

  “Me too, baby. Now, to echo Mr. King, do kindly fuck off before I have you thrown off the property for harassing my client.”

  This girl wasted no time dragging over a nearby wheelchair, and before I could wave her off, she was trying desperately to haul my heavily muscular frame up off the concrete.

  “Why are you tensing up? Let me help you for Christ’s sake!”

  I leaned my woozy head back, closed my eyes and gripped her wrist, allowing her to pull me up onto my feet. I collapsed quickly back into the chair, my feet landing on the metal stirrups.

  “So you’re going to lock me back in my tower?” I managed to ask as my vision drew into a tunnel.

  “No, Mr. King” the girl said, pushing me back through the emergency room doors. “I’m Ariana Maldova, and I’m here to save you from yourself.”

  6

  I was wheeled into a dark corridor and a soft hand outstretched to my face. My tired gaze scanned the high heels she had gripped in her hand, traveling down over her tight black pants, and back up to her ample breasts that were peeking out from the low cut of her blouse.

  I wasn’t sure whether to curse or kiss Gavin for this.

  Ariana Maldova, my own sexy little knight in shining armor… A flush bled through her cheeks as I locked gaze with her. Even helpless and hunched over in a wheelchair I knew I’d made an impression.

  Ariana held her hand out, this time finding courage to hold eye-contact a little longer than last.

  “Tyler King, I hope?”

  The polite smile she’d been struggling to hold faded when I didn’t shake her hand.

  “Did Gavin tell you I was coming?” she said. “We were scheduled for a meeting. You weren’t supposed to try and leave the building…”

  I rubbed my brow and breathed an ironic laugh.

  I’d made one of the biggest career fumbles in NFL history and Gavin thought this hot little piece was my remedy? The chick was barely old enough to have graduated college let alone hold the necessary experience to save a my career.

  “Stop that,” she said.

  “Stop what?”

  “You might as well be holding a sign that reads ‘I hired this girl?’” Her arms gestured over my head.

  “I apologize.”

  Ariana couldn’t find amusement in the situation. I, on the other hand, couldn’t wipe the slack jawed grin off my own face.

  “I just saved your ass from those assholes out there and you’re already writing me off. ”

  “I…”

  I froze up. I couldn’t lie to her.

  “Be a decent human being and shake my hand.”

  I accepted Ariana’s cold, clammy fingers in my grip.

  Our eyes met again.

  “Am I making you nervous?” I asked.

  “Nobody makes me nervous, Mr. King.”

  “Right.” I lifted myself back up out of the chair, standing to meet her eye-to-eye—or eye-to-chest, as it were.

  A rush of blood pulsed into my head and I tripped in place.

  Shit…It’ll pass, it’ll pass…

  My arms extended for balance but, damn, was I dizzy.

  “Need my help?” she said.

  “I’m OK.” I lifted my hand to shush her a minute, waiting for this wave of nausea to subside.

  “You’re recovering from a bullet wound Mr. King. Sit down. I won’t think any less of you.”

  “I need you to listen,” I said, dismissing her invitation and, after another small topple, balanced on the wheelchair’s handlebars. “I appreciate you helping me up off the damn sidewalk, but you can go now. I have a plan, and it doesn’t include your services.”

  Her face dropped. This was the look of another career I was about to destroy.

  “Mr. King…I…” She trailed off, brow furrowed.

  “Call me Tyler,” I said. “And if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

  I tried walking away, stumbling shoulder first into the left wall beside me. I zig-zagged, left foot over right a few yards then slammed against the opposite wall.

  She made a sassy huff.

  “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, Mr. King. You’re in no shape to drive, or to make decisions about your best interests.”

  “Just watch me,” I said, grunting in pain as I took a few more steps. I had to get back onto the elevator. The main doors leading out of the hospital were a bust, but maybe if I could get down to the parking garage… Gavin always kept a spare key in his glove box. One little broken window and I’d be driving out of here.

  Ariana, head tilted, enjoyed the show from the other end of the corridor.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself, Tyler,” she said. “And I won’t let you fire me before you know what I’m capable of.”

  “I’m not firing you. I never hired you.”

  “You’re telling me you had the whole thing back there under control?”

  “Yep.” I took some time to catch my breath against the wall.

  “You’re the perfect comeback story,” she said, approaching me with the wheelchair. “You’re not the first to fuck up your career and you won’t be the last. I can help you. You don’t have to be the bad guy.”

  “I got shot. I’m a victim here.”

  “I have a plan to show the world exactly that, but if you want my help, I need you to trust me and—preferably—not treat me like I’m disposable. We’re in this together.”

  “I already told you, I don’t need your goddamned help.”

  “So you’re done with football?” she asked. “If you fire me that’s what happens. I promised my boss that I’d take on your case, and failure is not an option. You send me away, and I’ll make your life a living hell.”

  “You’ll have to get in line,” I replied, my laughter cut off almost immediately by the pain.

  She leaned against the wall a foot away and crooked her head to me.

  “What’re you saying?” I asked. “Are you seriously threatening me?”

  “I’m saying if you fire me, you won’t have a career after this season. I promise you that.”

  My legs buckled and Ariana caught my arm.

  “You need me, and I need you. You’ve got a career hanging by a thread and I’m working on a once-in-a-lifetime promotion. We need each other.” Her pene
trative eyes were wide and hypnotic, and they gave me no chance to look away.

  I blinked.

  “You can’t help me. Nobody can…”

  “Listen to yourself. What drugs have they got you on that are making you this pathetic?”

  My brain tingled. I didn’t move, mostly because I knew I’d topple the minute I did.

  Ariana took it as defiance. “You’re scared,” she said.

  I downturned my lip.

  “Me too.”

  Her encouraging smile broke my heart but I waved her off anyway.

  “The position is unavailable. Go ahead and do your worst, Arianna…”

  “No.”

  “Who’re you to tell me no?”

  “I’m the one with no lifeboat if your ship sinks.”

  “Ariana, go home. I’m gonna wait here until the crowd leaves.”

  “I said no.” She rolled her eyes. “Tyler, you’re going to sit in this chair and give me another chance to prove myself.”

  My naked ass fell right back into the fabric of the seat.

  “…That’s it?”

  Two more seconds trying to stand or walk, I’d have fallen over either way.

  “Forgot my pants upstairs. If you’re not going to leave, you might as well make yourself useful.”

  Ariana moved to wheel me further toward my holding cell.

  “About that…” I felt her warm breath unexpectedly on my ear. Her perfume—spiced jasmine—intoxicated me more than the morphine earlier. “We’ll have a pants only rule from now on. And for the love of God, cover that thing up!”

  She patted my chest and tossed her sweater upon my lap.

  I glanced down, newly aware of a pulsing within my cock. Her sweater was suspended above my lap by a huge and throbbing erection. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be so goddamned turned on.

  What the fuck?

  The enchantress thought she’d managed to hide the cute little laugh she made at my predicament, but I caught her reflection in the glass doors ahead of us and smiled.

  Alright, Ariana Maldova. You have my full and complete attention.

  7

  A few days went by since my unusual first encounter with Tyler King. He needed more time to heal before I started rocketing him back into the spotlight. But that time was now over.

  An intimidating blue binder fell on his hospital bedsheets.

  “Ow. Fuck.” His face twisted as the binder hit something sensitive.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I forgot about the stitches.”

  I cut right to the chase with Tyler and the plan. Rescuing him from the media needed to happen as fast as possible, and thankfully, he was going to be a willing participant.

  “What’s this?” Tyler said, regarding the brick I’d just thrown on his lap.

  “A debrief. I want to make sure we’re on the same page each and every step of the way.”

  “De-brief is not what I’d call this, sweetheart.”

  “OK…No ‘sweetheart’. I’m Ariana or Ari. This is a professional relationship. I want us to get off on the right foot here.”

  He smiled a painfully gorgeous half-smile and nodded. “Slip of the tongue. I apologize. Go on.”

  I’ll admit, despite Tyler being bed-bound, stubbly, and more unkempt than usual, the football star was every ounce as sexy as he was the cover of GQ.

  Messy straw-blonde hair, bedroom eyes, pouty lips, and an incredibly lean and muscular body that even his hospital gown couldn’t hide from the world.

  “We need to nip this whole story in the bud. I’d like to get on top of you as soon as possible. On top of that…I mean…On top of getting this under control.”

  Tyler stretched. I glanced over at his amusement of my bumbling.

  Stop making a fool of yourself before he changes his mind and hires someone else…

  I shuffled in my seat and took a sip of water.

  “So… Do you even watch football?” he asked.

  I pushed my glasses up my nose. “Um, why?”

  “Why?” he grinned.

  “I’m busy most weekends. I don’t have much time for watching tv…”

  “Ever watch me play?”

  “A…bit…”

  …In one late night cram-session watching games, three hours of interviews, and two hours spent reading every article that even mentions his name.

  “Thoughts?”

  “I think you’re…Efficient?”

  “Efficient?”

  “That’s a compliment.”

  I tucked my trembling hands under my own copy of the binder and took a deep breath.

  “What’s got you so nervous? You were Superwoman a few days ago. Are you already going soft on me Ariana?”

  “I’m just excited,” I said. “Been a few months since I’ve had a job I can really sink my teeth into.”

  I slapped down on the binder cover. “Gavin told me what he needs, but this is your life we’re talking about Tyler. Some of the things we have to do might make you a little uncomfortable, but I need you to trust me.”

  “I get it,” he agreed and motioned me on.

  “Phase one is easy. Female Relations,” I read.

  Tyler’s blank face looked down at the page.

  “Obviously you have some trouble with women…”

  “Obviously?”

  I looked at the emboldened title — Female Relations — typed in a font I’d spent a half-hour fiddling with last night. This was going to be a long day… Before I could continue, the nurse came in for her usual hourly rounds of checking Tyler’s vitals and fluffing his pillows.

  Tick…

  Tick…

  The clock timed my breathing. I’d become so engrossed in this mission, I’d devolved this man into an overzealous book report on everything wrong with him.

  Tyler answered my silence: “Everything OK?”

  “Huh?”

  “Female relations.”

  “Right.”

  “I need a second,” I scratched my brow and stood up, feeling like a phony as I walked straight for the door. “I’m gonna grab us a coffee.”

  “Ariana, don’t be nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous,” I said, “I always want coffee.”

  He’d figured me out and his body language closed-off.

  I’d fucked this up. I’d lost him.

  “Ariana, read me the damn plan so we can get moving.” He sounded calm enough and his face softened.

  With hands still trembling, I opened the folder.

  “Female Relations…” he prompted me.

  I cleared my throat and replaced my glasses. “Right. This first graph compares a timeline of your headlines over the last two years against public opinion. The opinion line climbs,” I swallowed and continued, “at any mention of you dating or maintaining a long-term relationship. Long-term meaning they’ve seen you at least three times publicly.”

  “OK…”

  “But then that line drops dramatically—quite dramatically—whenever—”

  “—They realize it’s bullshit.”

  Tyler seemed amused by this reputation, or perhaps he was simply distant from the conversation. Either way, his eyes had locked back on my cleavage and I felt a little tingle run up my spine. I readjusted my neckline and Tyler’s chin dropped back to the page.

  “That is your big idea,” he asked. “Set me up in some kind of relationship?”

  His tone suggested he might be open to the idea.

  “Ariana, sweetheart, I can tell you right now I’m not doing that. What’s the backup plan? Something a little more realistic, I hope.”

  I swallowed harder, mouth spitting feathers.

  I didn’t know he’d be instantly unreceptive to the idea.

  “I have no Plan B for this.”

  “Little louder.”

  “I didn’t have time to come up with a Plan B.”

  “Then this meeting’s adjourned ’til you find one.”

  “How else could I make
America believe this playboy changed his ways? The public and the sponsors are looking for you to find love and stability above everything. That’s why this has to be it. There’s no Plan B.”

  “You got it backwards. The public want me to focus so I can win them that championship.”

  “No, they don’t. You’ve done all you can for that team, more than you know. You saved the Lightning from obscurity and your fame won’t fade. The question is, will people look back on you as a hero, or a villain. You’re missing a happy ever after.”

  “…I’m missing a championship!”

  “No. This is more important than football. What you did for that team can’t be replicated.”

  “I’ve peaked. That what you’re saying to me? There’s no hope for redemption on the field?”

  “I’m saying maybe you can find redemption on and off the field.”

  He listened to me, gazing upon me with a suspicious eye. Strong arms roped in tattoos flexed when he put his hands to his head.

  I stared long enough that he caught me and my chin dropped to the binder.

  “It needs to be more than just football. You need to fall in love, find long-term happiness, start a businesses or charity and find a deeper sense of success.”

  “You can gather all this because of your graphs then, huh?”

  “There’s social technology that tracks this stuff.”

  “I’m not some goodie two fucking shoes Ariana. You can’t fix this with some PR sham.”

  “My plan is aggressive as they come,” I said. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Find another plan or get out. You’re wasting my time here.”

  “You’re not the villain,” I said. “And you know why? Because of me.”

  “I saw the headlines. I know what I am. My only option is to get back on that field and win games to remind them why they love me. It’s all I care about.”

  “This graph is not outdated. I updated it this morning. See that little upward curve right at the end there?”

  He read the chart again.

  “You said it goes up when I’m dating someone,” he said. “It’s going up again right now and all I’ve done is laid here in this damn hospital bed. I’m not seeing anyone!”