Be Mine Page 3

  “Got somewhere to go, Rook?” Chip calls from his locker three stalls down as I’m pulling on my pants.

  “He’s got that sweet honey at home. I’d be in a hurry to leave if I were him, too,” someone else jokes.

  “Nah, Charlotte’s my friend.”

  “I got friends like those. Those are the best kind.” Chip waggles his eyebrows like a kid who just got into his first frat and not a five-year vet who’s pushing thirty.

  I don’t bother to explain any further. No one believed me in college and it looks like none of the pros are buying that line either. They’ll figure it out once I start seeing someone else.

  Around the locker room, the conversation regarding the game, the new prospects, our first game, flows around me. I'm not thinking about football. My thoughts are stuck on the hot brunette with the unending curves kneeling on the pavement at the dump one lot over. I haven’t ever hooked up with a mom before. I guess that makes me a rookie in more ways than one.

  Reaching into my locker, I tug my shirt over my head, sling my pack across my body and grab my phone. Charlie picks up on the second ring.

  “Want to go to a bar with me?”

  “It’s five o’clock.”

  “Right. Perfect bar time. They serve food there and everything.”

  "I hate bar food.”

  “Charlie.”

  “Is this about a woman?” she guesses.

  “Not exactly.” But I can’t lie to her.

  She groans. “You just got here.”

  “I know, but there’s this girl. No, woman.” Neither sound right. She’s a mother but there’s a sweet innocence about her that made me think she was young—younger than me, at least.

  “I don’t even want to know. Go by yourself.”

  “She’s…skittish.” There was a wariness in her eyes. She’ll be more comfortable around Charlie. Besides, Charlie’s new to town and could use a friend.

  “Then leave her alone.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Really?” I hear a rustle. “I’ve never heard you say that about a woman.” I’ve piqued her interest. “Give me five minutes. Where is it?”

  I give her the address. “It’s a dump,” I warn. “And, the food’s probably bad. It smelled rank there yesterday.”

  “I love how you’re giving me the real details after I’ve agreed to come.”

  I shrug even though she can’t see it. “You’d find out the truth soon enough. Besides, it’s easier for all of us this way. You’d want me to recite every single detail when I got home.”

  “This is true,” she agrees. “Hang up so I can get ready. I want to look good for your girl.”

  “She’s not my girl.”

  “Yet.”

  “True.”

  We both know that there’s not a girl alive that can say no to me.

  “Maybe we should leave,” Charlie whispers in my ear.

  I didn’t have to press the owner for the new waitress’s phone number. She was rushing around when Charlie and I arrived. An hour and a half later, she’s barely taken a moment to breathe between filling pitchers, delivering food, wiping down tables while the only other waitress in the place is flirting with a table of players. Someone across the room shouts for a refill. I shoot a glare at the lazy waitress, but she’s too busy shaking her tatas in front of a couple of my teammates.

  I push back my chair to go and grab the unhelpful staff, but Charlotte drags me down.

  “Don’t,” she whispers.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll embarrass her.”

  “I’m trying to help her out.”

  “Would you want Lainey to come into your workplace and yell at your teammates?”

  That image makes me wince. Reluctantly, I drop back into my seat. “What can we do?”

  “For Lainey? I think we just need to come here a lot. We’ll order lots of stuff and leave big tips. Not obscene ones that will make her feel bad, but like twenty-five or thirty percent. Encourage your teammates to do the same.”

  I nod slowly. “That’s a good plan. Occasionally, I can throw in a big tip.”

  “Like after a game?” Charlie drums her fingers on the table while she plots. “That makes sense,” she concludes. “We can chalk it up to superstitions.”

  “I don’t have superstitions.”

  “You do now.”

  “And then I’ll ask her out.”

  “No.”

  I shoot a frown at Charlie. “Why not?”

  "Let’s review what you told me about her. You met her yesterday when she showed up at Stacks with her child. Her bag was full of kid stuff and her washrags had holes in them. You played with her child while she went in to fill out an application. After that, you watched her walk to the bus stop.”

  “Yeah? So what about it?” I take another sip of my beer and surreptitiously watch Lainey as she rushes to pour yet another beer. A bell from the kitchen rings. My girl hops to and grabs the food, which she delivers while it’s still hot. She does all of this with a smile on her face. I hope to hell she’s getting tipped well. I wonder if it’d be obvious if I went around and laid a twenty on every table.

  “Are you ready to be someone’s dad?”

  I nearly spit out my beer at Charlie’s words. “What in the hell did you just ask?”

  Charlie purses her lips together. “Exactly. This is a mom. She’s not a groupie. She’s not a social media hookup. She’s not an easy lay. She’s obviously working this job to support her kid. Don’t go after her unless you want to be in a serious relationship.”

  I wait for Charlie to laugh and say she’s kidding, but she sits there with her arms folded across her chest and a serious expression on her face. My smile dies off as her words settle in.

  “I’m a rookie, Charlie. The only serious relationship I’m going to be in this year is with my team.”

  “I know that. I’m here to make sure that you don’t have any distractions, right? And Lainey and her child are a big distraction, if you treat them right. And if you don’t treat them right, then you’re not any better than the waitress over in the corner who isn’t doing her share of the work. It isn’t fair.”

  My dick says fuck fairness. “Have you thought that maybe she needs to have something in her life that isn’t serious? I can show her a good time. Give her some nice gifts. Take her kid out. She probably doesn’t want a commitment. It’s a new age, Charlie. Women can have sex just for the sake of sex.”

  “Then go after those women, Nick. Lainey isn’t that type of girl. At least, not right now she isn’t.”

  “How do you know? You haven’t even met her.”

  “She’s tired, Nick. Look at her face. I mean, really look at her. Not just her beautiful body or her gorgeous features, but look at the exhaustion that’s in her eyes. She wants to go home. She doesn’t want to have to deal with a rich playboy whose only concern is whether he’ll get his hands on a small leather ball.”

  Using my beer as cover, I do as Charlie orders and examine Lainey’s face. The bright smile on her lips is strained at the corners. Faint lines crease her forehead. Her shoulders hang low as if the entire continent is resting on them. I think back to yesterday and the tears that clung to her eyes as we put the scattered belongings back into her bag.

  It was her vulnerability that called to me, but it’s that same delicateness that means I need to stay away. Charlie’s words sting, but only because she’s right. I'm not ready for a serious relationship. I need to focus on my career. That takes one hundred percent of my attention. Being a family man? It doesn’t fit into the picture I’ve in my mind.

  With a deep exhale, I get to my feet and toss a large bill on the table. Charlie is about to object, but I put a hand over hers. “Let me at least do this.”

  Because I can’t do anything more.

  Chapter Four

  Lainey

  After two months of work, I’ve settled into a routine. I avoid Chip. It’s fairly easy as he do
esn’t come into Stacks much anymore. A former Mustang opened a bar in Uptown and the players go there to do a lot of team celebrations. The few times Chip does show his face around here, he ignores me. I get the message. He wants to continue to pretend we are complete strangers and I’m perfectly fine with that.

  A couple days after I started working at Stacks, I found my stuff near the dumpster out back. I’m not sure if Chip meant to throw it away or placed it by the trash because he knew I’d find it there as I’m the one that usually takes out the garbage. In the end, it doesn’t matter. I have my things back and I didn’t need to get on my knees to beg for it. That’s a win in my book.

  Work isn’t terrible. Cronett, the owner doesn’t do anything but stare at my boobs, but the regulars are decent. Don, a single older man with a bushy Santa beard and a penchant for loud, expensive cowboy boots, comes in every night for a beer and a burger. I looked his boots up online once and nearly choked at the cost. Three middle aged guys wearing polos with a Mustang emblem embroidered over the breast pocket stop in to shoot pool on Thursdays. A few of the secretarial staff will gulp down a Bloody Mary, extra olives and hold the celery, after work on Fridays.

  Then there are my favorites--Nick Jackson and his girlfriend, Charlotte Randolph. Those two come in every week, order everything on the menu, only eat about a quarter of it and then leave, with a hundred-dollar bill on the table as my tip.

  Charlotte, a gorgeous blonde, told me one day that we were going to be “best friends.”

  “Why?” I asked because there’s no way a woman this pretty and this polished doesn’t have a dozen other pretty girls to hang out with on a regular basis.

  Her answer surprised me. “Because you’re alone and I’m alone and we women need to stick together.”

  Charlotte had moved down with Nick from Chicago. She didn’t have a job, but apparently, she didn’t need one. I’d be jealous, but Charlie’s too nice. You’d have to be the Grinch’s ugly stepsister to hate a person like Charlie. She’s kind when she could be snobby. She’s generous when she doesn’t have to be. Ever since she found out I have a kid, she’s been bringing in small toys.

  They’re just cheap enough that I feel small turning them away, especially when Charlie goes into one of her elaborate stories about how she picked it up.

  “I was down at the Dallas Farmer’s Market and there was this family who were selling these handmaid toys. Isn’t this frog adorable? I guess the grandma makes these patterns and the entire family, even the teenage boy, knit them. I bought one of each.”

  “Our place is being overtaken by knitted farm animals. Please say you’ll take one. I tripped over a cow on the way to the bathroom last night and nearly dislocated my shoulder,” Nick adds.

  I pick up the cute stuffed animal and tuck it into my apron. “Cassidy will love this.”

  “I have others where those came from,” Charlie offers.

  “I think one’s enough.” These two do too much for me. “I’ll go and put him with my purse so I don’t get him dirty.”

  When I come back, Charlie’s at the table alone. My eyes drift to the empty seat. It’s none of your business, I tell myself. Nick’s taken, and even if he wasn’t, it would still not be any of your business. Nick’s a customer, no matter what your dreams want to tell you. After giving myself a small but necessary scold, I pick up the pitcher of beer and go fill Charlie’s empty glass. It’s something I keep needing to remind myself because if I don’t, I start conjuring up images of me in the chair beside Nick instead of sweet Charlotte.

  “Nick went to meet some of the guys,” Charlie informs me as if she can read my mind. “Some team building thing.”

  She looks bummed.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s wishing he was with you rather than his smelly teammates,” I reassure her. I wonder sometimes what it’s like being Charlotte. She’s got the perfect life. Lots of money, a devoted boyfriend, and plenty of free time. She doesn’t toss and turn in her bed worrying about her bills. She doesn’t have to scramble around trying to find a sitter for her daughter. She doesn’t sit in her bathroom with the shower on full blast so she can have a good cry in peace. I wiggle my toes in my black sneakers. It’d be sweet to walk a mile in her designer shoes.

  “Eh. He can stay out all night with them. I need the space.” She picks up her drink and knocks it back with alarming speed. “Get me a shot, would you?”

  My eyes widen. In the two months I’ve been serving her, she’s never asked for hard liquor. “Um, what’s the occasion?”

  “Do I need one?” she snaps and then immediately slaps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

  Wait. Suddenly, I realize what’s going on. I feel dumb for not having put two and two together. Nick suddenly left. Charlie’s sitting here alone and drinking shots. Her man must be cheating on her. God, why did I think he was one of the good ones? Because he left me nice tips and always asked about my daughter? Am I a fool or what? Don’t answer that question.

  “Crap, honey, I’m sorry. I’d suggest we egg his house, but you two live together. I’m down for helping you burn his stuff though.”

  “What?” She blinks at me like an owl.

  “Nick. I’ll help you burn Nick’s stuff,” I repeat.

  “Why would I want to burn Nick’s stuff?”

  “Because he’s off at his ‘meeting.” I put the word in scare quotes so she’ll know that I know that he’s stepping out on her.

  “Why are you using finger quotes?”

  Is she obtuse? Or does she not want to know? I don’t know, but I guess I should let it go. I’m just a waitress and not her friend, despite what she says. Still…I can’t help but give her the teeniest bit of advice.

  “Football players might seem cool, but they’re really trash,” I tell her. “There are better men out there. You’re so pretty and decent, Charlie, you could have anyone you want.”

  She blinks again, and then her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh! You think Nick is cheating on me!”

  “I mean…if the shoe fits and all,” I reply softly. When her lips start quivering, a pang of self-doubt pings at the base of my neck. I don’t want to make her cry so I add, “But maybe I’m wrong. Teams have meetings.”

  Laughter, rather than tears, spills out of her. “Oh my goodness, no. Nick is like my brother. We grew up together. He really is at a meeting with the other quarterbacks tonight. They’re having dinner at Peters’ place. And even if he was meeting a woman, I’d be okay with it.”

  It’s hard for me to tell whether she’s saying this because she believes it or those are the lies she tells herself to keep her heart intact. Sympathy has me sliding into the chair that Nick’s abandoned. “Charlie, I’m not lying when I tell you that you are one of the best people I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.”

  She props an elbow on the table and rests her head on the palm of her hand. “And you’re one of the best people I’ve met. What are you doing this weekend?”

  The question catches me off-guard. “Going to the park.”

  "Can I come with?”

  Of all the things I thought she was going to ask me, this wasn’t it.

  “I’m serious,” she says.

  I fiddle with my ponytail. “I guess, but it’s pretty boring. Cass likes to chase the ducks around and I push her in the swing for about a half an hour until my arms give out. We eat peanut butter sandwiches at lunch, and then I have to come here for the night shift.”

  “That sounds amazing.”

  I search her face for any traces of mockery but find none.

  “I told you before. I’m lonely,” she confesses. “I don’t really get along with the other wives because, well, I’m not a wife and they keep wanting to treat me like one. They’ve got all these charity events, but it’s not about the charity, it’s about one-upping each other. I’m not about that life. The nice ones are more involved with their families. I have a hard time making friends because I can’t figure out who w
ants to use me for my money versus who wants to use me to get access to Nick. I was serious about wanting to be friends, but real friends do stuff together so…please?” She bats her eyelashes at me.

  What could I say to that? Obviously not no.

  “Go away.” Charlie gives Nick a rough shove. “It’s my turn to play with Cassidy. Stop hogging her.”

  “Fine, but only because I’m hungry,” Nick replies. He reaches down and smooths his hand over Cass’s small head which looks even tinier under Nick’s large palm.

  “Okay. Bye ‘Unca Nick.”

  I cringe at my daughter’s use of Uncle but at least she’s moved on from Dada. The first is embarrassing, but the second makes me want to dig a pit in the middle of the ground and jump inside.

  Nick ambles over—all smooth animal grace and scorching male beauty. He’s a menace to all women. If I was in charge, I’d have to lock him up for the safety of womankind.

  “If you ever wake up and find Cassidy missing, I’ve taken her,” Nick confesses as he drops onto the blanket we laid out on the grass. Charlie’s crawling around the playset chasing a screaming Cassidy. The day at the park with Charlie and Cass turned out to be a day at the park with Charlie, Cass, and Nick.

  At first, I was annoyed. Charlie’s admission that the two of them were just friends flipped a switch inside of me. I endured a very dirty dream that involved Nick going down on me and then taking me over the kitchen table. I woke up trembling and had to rub myself until I came, but my mini-orgasm was unfulfilling.

  After I cleaned myself up and got Cass ready for the day, I started feeling guilty. Charlie probably wants to be with Nick but he’s off sleeping with a bunch of other girls while she pretends to not have feelings for him. When I got to the park and saw him smiling at me, I wanted to hit him for a multitude of reasons—my weak orgasm, being hot as sin, hurting Charlie. Also, being hot as sin. Or did I mention that already? My hormones need to stay in their own lane.