Playing to Win (The Players)

I am an anxious motherfucker. A bundle of nerves. A finger-tapping, knee-bouncing asshole who’s earning dirty looks from everyone who’s sitting with me every time my knee hits the underside of the table.

“Calm your tits, bro.” This comes from Derek, who’s sitting right next to me in our usual booth. It’s like it’s become a habit, us hanging out together at Logan’s. “You’re so fucking edgy you’re making me nervous.”

And Derek is never nervous. About anything.

It’s nine-thirty and there’s no sign of Ruby yet at Logan’s. I check my phone—wait, scratch that. It’s actually nine-forty-three and she’s still not here.

Fuck. She’s ditching me.

If she doesn’t show up tonight, this is it. I’m leaving her alone. I don’t need some girl stringing me along. Even if she’s hot. Even if her skin is kitten soft and her greenish-hazel eyes were eating me up earlier. Even if she’s the reason I play that much better whenever she’s close by.

Not sure if that’s the real reason I started to play better, but it sure felt like it. Our practice Friday was terrible. The game Saturday was a scrambling shitshow and we only pulled out a win by sheer brute force and a little bit of luck. The speech Mattson gave us after the game left me feeling like a failure. His pep talk this morning when he spotted me in the gym did nothing to make me feel better either.

I was out on that field, throwing balls away left and right and getting fucking sacked but then Ruby appeared…

And I started playing better.

Way better.

It’s like a miracle occurred. Or maybe it’s Gwen and Eric bringing the luck, but I doubt that. I could give two shits about them. I mean Eric is nice and he’s a loyal fan. Gwen is scary and I would never want to cross her. I don’t want to show off for the two of them.

For Ruby? All I want to do is impress her.

Guess I didn’t impress her enough though because her pretty ass still isn’t here. And if that isn’t low-key depressing…

“Sorry.” I reach for my beer bottle and try to drain it, only to discover it’s already empty. “I need another one. Where’s the server?”

It’s extra busy tonight, thanks to the half-off promotion. The bar is wall to wall filled with people, including lots of women.

Like a lot.

The majority of them are attractive. A lot of them are making eyes at me from where I sit at our usual booth in the back of the bar, fully expecting me to make eyes at them in return because that’s what I do. I flirt. I put on the good ol’ boy act like Derek calls it and next thing I know, they’re cuddling up close to me and asking if we can get out of there, and of course I oblige them.

Tonight though? I’m not interested in a single one of them.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why wouldn’t they interest me? I’ve never felt like this before. Women throw themselves at me and I catch them. Take them somewhere dark and quiet and shower them with all the attention they’re searching for. I leave them satisfied and I’m always satisfied too. Until the next one. And the next one.

And the next one after that.

Some might call me a manwhore, and maybe I am, but who am I to turn all those beautiful women away? They’re willing and so am I. We’re consenting adults so where’s the harm in it?

My gaze scans the room, touching on every pretty woman I see. Fuck Ruby Maguire. She’s missing out on a good fuck and she’ll regret not showing up tonight. This was her last shot.

Looks like she blew it.

“That one’s staring at you, bro,” Derek murmurs, blatantly pointing at an attractive brunette with a giant rack. “Look at those titties.”

“Titties, D? Seriously?” I send him a withering stare before I refocus on Miss Titties because damn, that rack is huge. I should wave her over. Hell, I should be waving a couple of cuties over to join us because then I’ll have options.

She waves at me, her boobs bouncing with the movement, and holy hell.

I’m. Not.

Interested.

I’m not interested in a single one of them. The blonde that’s shifted into my line of vision isn’t blonde enough. The girl with the long, tanned legs and decent tits—her legs aren’t right. Neither are her tits. And neither of them is wearing a T-shirt with a funny message.

I like that about Ruby. Her funny T-shirts.

Hell, I like a lot of things about Ruby.

Yet I don’t think she likes me much.

Our server eventually makes her rounds and I order two beers, which has Derek looking at me funny.

“You okay there, QB?”

I sit up a little straighter, honored he’d call me that. I only ever heard him call Cam that and it feels good. I finally feel accepted. “I wanna get drunk.”

“Not a smart move during the season, bro. Isn’t that your plan?” Derek studies me, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “Forget the beer. Go find a cute girl and lose yourself in her for a while. Burn some calories.”

He knows that’s what I’ve done in the past, which makes sense why he’s pushing me to do it right now. But I shake my head, my voice firm when I say, “Nope.”

The p makes a popping sound that is oddly satisfying. And I try the word out, saying it over and over again with the hard p.

“Are you already drunk?” Derek asks when I finally stop.

I think about how many beers I’ve already had. I count them on my fingers. One, two…

“I’ve had three.”

“And you just ordered two more?” Derek’s brows shoot up. “I’m cutting you off.”

“No, you’re fucking not.”

“I am.” Derek nods, reaching out to grab my beer bottle, seeming almost disappointed to find it’s empty. “No more for you. You can’t get trashed before the next big game.”

“It’s Monday, Derek. We don’t play until Saturday.” I shoot him a look like he’s fucking crazy. “Didn’t you see how I played today?”

“You played pretty damn good.” He hesitates, tipping his bottle toward his lips. “Eventually.”

All I can do is snort in response because damn it, he’s not wrong.

And I hate that. I need to get focused and not let the little shit distract me.

Then I think of Ruby showing up at practice. Watching me. How I felt a jolt vibrate through my body the moment our eyes made contact. Something came over me and next thing I knew, I was playing better.

Much better.

Feels like lately I’m always thinking of Ruby, which is fucking annoying, especially when she doesn’t think of me.

The server reappears with our orders and I take both of my beers, placing them as far away from Derek’s grabby hands as I can get them. I notice the empty spot beside me, wishing a cute ass was filling it, and when I glance up, I shake my head, positive that I’m hallucinating.

I blink. Close my eyes for a second. Two seconds. Crack them open.

Oh shit. Now she’s even closer.

Ruby. Fucking. Maguire.

She’s got on black shorts that are too damn short and show way too much skin and there are white Nike Air Force sneakers on her feet. She’s wearing another one of her T-shirts. This one is pale pink with black lettering in all caps that says:

DUMP HIM.

Straight across her perfect tits.

I scrub a hand over my face, waiting for her to evaporate, but she’s still there. Approaching our table with a friendly look on her too pretty face.

God, she drives me crazy. I don’t like it.

“Hey, guys.” She stops right in front of our table, offering us a little wave. As casual as she pleases, not singling me out but acting like she’s come to speak to all of us. “How are you?”

“Ruby, what’s up?” Derek nudges me in the side with his elbow, making me grunt. That fucking hurt. “You should join us. Loverboy here has been pining away for you.”

I send him a sharp glance and he shrugs.

How the hell did he know? Not like I told anyone I asked Ruby to meet me here.

“Sorry I’m late.” These words, the smile, it’s all aimed directly at me. “I was talking to my sister and lost track of time.”

Uh huh. I bet she was second-guessing herself the entire time tonight. Should she come here? Should she stay home? Surprised that she was able to convince herself to show up.

Alone.

This feels major.

“How is Blair?” I nod, remembering her older sister. Only pleasant thoughts filter through when it comes to that particular Maguire sister.

“She’s doing great. We haven’t talked in a while so we needed to catch up. She’s just so busy with everything going on with Cam.”

“How’s Cam doing? He’s playing his first game this weekend, huh?”

“He’s actually playing his first game in a few days. His team is playing the first Thursday night football game of the season.”

“Oh damn, seriously? We gotta get together and watch our fucking homie tear it up on the professional field!” Derek practically screams, making Ruby laugh.

I sit there and savor the sound, taking a big swig from my beer, realizing my mistake a second later.

My head is spinning. I swear I can see two Ruby’s standing in front of me.

Shit. I need to stop drinking before I do something stupid.

“You should totally put something together,” Ruby encourages. “I’m sure Cam would appreciate the support.”

“He wouldn’t even notice the support.”

She glances over at me, frowning. “What?”

“Cam. He won’t know we’re supporting him. How can he appreciate it?”

Ruby squints at me, tilting her head. Did I mention she’s got her hair in a high ponytail and my fingers itch to tug it?

Yeah. It’s true. And it sucks.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “Well, not drunk. More like pleasantly buzzed.”

“Ah.” She’s smiling. “Okay.”

“Sit down.” I pat the empty spot next to me on the booth seat. “Join us.”

“You sure about that?” Her brows rise.

“Hell yeah,” I tell her, slapping the seat again, my palm cracking against the vinyl. “Come on, Ruby Red. Just sit down and let me stare at you for a minute.”

She pauses, her eyes wide and I realize what I just said. Feels like I gave something away.

Like my feelings.

Fuck.

Eventually she does as I request, sliding onto the booth seat, her knee knocking into mine when she settles in close. I can smell her perfume, the bare skin of her thigh pressing against mine and I remind myself that I can’t touch her.

All I wanna do is touch her. It feels like a switch flipped on inside me and it pounds out her name with an incessant drum.

Ru-by. Ru-by. Ru-by.

Too much beer. That’s my problem. I’ve got it bad. I’ve got it so bad and I’m living for it because now that she’s here, I’ve forgotten all about my earlier anxiety. How twisted up I was over her not showing up.

She’s finally here and all of that disappears.

“I thought you were going to be a no-show,” I tell her, my head bent so I can speak directly into her ear.

“Better late than never?” She gazes up at me, her eyes wide and I dip my head closer, my lips practically brushing her ear.

“Worth the wait,” I whisper, wishing I could bite her lobe. Trace the length of her neck with my fingers.

Ruby leans back a little as if she might prefer the distance, though her expression is amused. “You’re definitely drunk.”

“Not quite. Getting there,” I say agreeably. “It’s your fault.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“I had nothing else to do but drink while I waited for you.”

“Aw, poor Ace. Waiting for a woman for once? You weren’t flirting with your fan club to distract you?” She’s teasing, her lips curved into this sexy little smile I want to kiss off.

No. What the hell am I thinking? There’s no kissing this girl. That will only lead to trouble. I need to just—fuck her hard once. From behind? Yeah, that sounds perfect. Tugging on her silky hair and making her moan with every thrust…

That should get her out of my system once and for all.

“Haven’t seen the fan club around tonight. Don’t really care either.” I stare at her lips, wondering what she’d do if I just leaned in and kissed her.

Jesus, I need to get it together. Why am I so fixated on her mouth?

“What?” She sounds and appears genuinely shocked. “But you’re all about your fan club.”

“Not lately,” Derek says from somewhere over my shoulder. The asshole has been creeping in on our conversation. “From what I see, they bore him. You might have the power to turn Ace here into a one-woman man, Maguire.”

I close my eyes for the briefest moment, basking in my humility as I hear Derek laugh like he just told the funniest joke ever. But when I pop my eyes open—and I had them closed for like a second, tops—I find Ruby sitting a little closer, her hand resting on my thigh. I want to take that hand and settle it right over my junk.

Would she let me? Or slap my face if I tried?

Probably the second scenario.

“Oh, Derek, leave him alone. He’s drunk and a little too in his feelings.” Is she making fun of me?

When our eyes meet though, I see the sympathy there and I realize she’s not making fun. Her tone is soft and her gaze is only for me and her fingers are burning through the fabric of my shorts. Seeping right through until it feels like she’s touching my bare flesh.

Shit.

Derek just laughs some more and turns away from us.

Thank Christ.

“He’s an asshole,” I mutter.

“I know he’s just joking.” She pats my leg like she’s my grandma and when she starts to remove her hand, I drop mine on top of hers, keeping her hand pinned there.

“Maybe he’s not joking.” My tone comes out way more serious than I intended and I swallow hard, hating myself.

No more beer for me.

“Ace.” She tilts her head to the side, her ponytail swinging and I reach out with my other hand, slipping my fingers into the silky strands. “You know you don’t do serious.”

“You’re right.” I nod. “I don’t.”

“Meaning this is nothing.” She waves her hand between us.

“I don’t know about that. I did ask you on a date.”

Ruby blinks at me, her lips parted, though she’s not talking. Like I stunned her silent. “You did not.”

I nod. “Did so.”

Skepticism flares in her gaze. “This isn’t a date. It’s a meeting at a bar.”

“Sounds like a date to me.” I shrug.

“Definitely not.” Ruby shakes her head.

“Tell me what constitutes a date then,” I challenge, sounding like a dickhead.

Because I am a dickhead.

“Well, first, if you were asking me on a date, you’d offer to come pick me up.”

Uh huh.

“And when you’d pick me up, you’d take me to dinner or a movie, or some sort of form of entertainment that’ll keep us occupied for a few hours,” she continues.

Sounds fucking boring as shit. “Keep going.”

“And then you’d take me back home and—”

“Kiss you at the front door, convince you to go inside and end up in your bedroom and fuck you until you were screaming my name?” I suggest helpfully.

Her cheeks go bright red. “Absolutely not.”

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.” She manages to make the sentence sound prim but come on.

Ruby just said the word fuck.

That’s hot.

“How many dates does it take until you’re fucking the poor guy?” I ask, truly curious.

“At least three. Maybe more.” She’s nodding. “Yeah, definitely more. Like five dates. Six?”

I’m starting to sweat. That’s a lot of work for what sounds like little reward. “I’ve never really dated anyone before.”

Her brows shoot up. “Seriously? Not even in high school?”

“I never really had to.” I shrug. “Girls just…wanted to hang out with me, but we never actually dated.”

“No surprise,” she murmurs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m vaguely insulted.

“It means nothing.” She shrugs. “I guess when you’re—you, you don’t have to work hard to find a random girl and hang out with her for the night.”

“That’s not what I’m looking for.” I’m not? “And I don’t give a damn about random girls,” I say vehemently. “They don’t know me.”

Shit, where is this coming from? I blame it on Ruby. She makes me feel…I can’t even explain it. I just know one thing.

I want her. I want to spend more time with her. I want to kiss her and talk to her and get to know her better. I want to strip off her clothes and fuck her nice and slow. Then fuck her hard and fast. Make her come. Make her shout my name. Stuff her mouth full of my dick. Go down on her until she’s coming all over my face.

Yeah. That’s what I want. With her.

Ruby.

“I don’t really know you either,” Ruby points out.

“You know me better than any other woman does.” I curl a few strands of her silky blonde hair around my finger and gently tug. “You actually have conversations with me.”

She sucks in a sharp breath but otherwise, there’s no other reaction to me touching her. “Are you just starved for conversation, Ace?”

“I’m starved for a lot of things.” I let go of her hair and give in to a sudden urge, tracing the side of her neck with my fingertips, curling them around the front of her throat so I can lightly hold her there, pressing beneath her chin and tipping her head up so our gazes meet. Her breath catches, her lips parting and a shuddery exhale leaves her. “Love the shirt. Trying to send a secret message to anyone?”

Ruby tries to glance down at herself, but she can’t thanks to the way my hand is currently wrapped around her neck. Not in a threatening way. But damn, I like the way my fingers look, curled around her throat. It’s fucking sexy.

She’s sexy.

I have a feeling we’d be so damn good together.

Like we have the potential to burn down the world, if she’d just let me show her.