Beauty and the Baller

My head snaps around to the girl who just breezed in the double doors and heads to the bar area. She’s wearing denim shorts and a blue T-shirt with red cowboy boots, and her hair shines under the light, straight as an arrow down her tanned shoulders. She sees Sonia, then rushes over to give her a hug.

Skeeter follows my eyes. “Nova really let you have it at the party.” He chuckles. “She’s usually sweet, but you had to go and ruin her roses.”

I scowl. “It was Jenny.”

He smirks as he chews on a fry. “In college, she talked me into a tattoo. She couldn’t get anyone to go with her, and I was game.” He pushes up his shirt and shows me the number fifty-seven. “That’s my high school number when we won state. She got Trouble at the top of her ass. With yellow roses around it. Those are her thing, so you really messed up when you ruined them.”

“I didn’t,” I growl.

“She was crazy fun. Spunky.” A frown flits over his face. “Then everything went to hell . . .”

“And?” I give him a look after the pause goes on too long.

The waitress interrupts us, asking if we want refills, and when she’s walking away, Skeeter gets up to go to the bathroom. I bristle. What went to hell for Nova?

I glance over as Nova wraps up her chat with Sonia, then heads back to the bar, where she plops down on a stool.

Before I think too hard about it, I grab my water glass, which I didn’t want refilled, and head to the bar. Tuck’s words keep tumbling around in my head. Who is she? Really? Why did she agree to come to the party if it wasn’t for money? Is she just like the other crazy fans who would do anything to see a player? Was the emotion I felt in her arms fake?

My chest twinges. Did I hurt her? Or did it mean nothing at all?

She’s leaning in over the bar, her face supported by her elbows, chatting to the male bartender, when I slide in next to her. I motion to him. “Water, please.”

She stills, then turns to look at me, those blue eyes cool. “Hello.”

“We meet again. Nice boots.”

“Bound to happen. It’s a small town.” She kicks out a long leg. “The shoes are a throwback to high school. I begged for Mama to buy these, and she wouldn’t, so I saved my money from my tips at the diner.”

“I used to work at a diner. I washed dishes.”

She shrugs. “We have something in common. Did you buy boots?”

“No.”

The bartender slides my water over, and a tense silence settles between us when I don’t leave.

A server walks behind the bar, and Nova raises her hand. “Hey. I’m here for a pickup order. Under Morgan. I called it in about half an hour ago.”

I take a sip of water. “So. How are you?”

She frowns, probably wondering why I’m trying to talk to her. “Fine. How are you?”

“We have lice at school.” Ugh. Stupid.

“I’ll check Sabine tonight.”

“You want a Coke or something else while you wait, Nova?” the bartender asks. He’s in his early twenties with a baby face and a trendy fade hairstyle. His eyes roam over her breasts. “On the house, darlin’. Anytime you come in, ask for me, and I’ll fix you up.” He taps his name tag. “Riley.”

“Aw, thanks, Riley; that’s so sweet. I’d love a Coke,” she says, batting her lashes as he slides one over. She tips it up at me, a little smirk on her face. “Free drink. Yahoo.” She glances back at the bartender, who’s moved away to help someone else. “Hmm. He’s cute. You think I’m too old for him?”

“Yes.”

“But you can date a twenty-year-old?”

“What? No.” Whitney was my age. Jenny was young, but I also thought since she was, she wouldn’t expect much. Wrong.

My waitress shows up next to me, a disappointed look on her face. “Coach, I would have gotten your drink for you.”

“I got it,” I say. “No worries.”

She shrugs, then pulls a piece of paper out of the green apron that’s tied around her waist. “I was told to give you this. It’s that lady’s”—she points at a young, attractive brunette across the bar, who smiles brightly at me—“phone number. I know you said to stop giving them to you, but she used to babysit me, and she’s super nice. She just came out of a nasty divorce and got a big ranch in the settlement. I think y’all would make a cute couple.” She leans in. “She also gave me twenty bucks.”

I grimace/smile at the lady, then tuck the number in my pants.

Nova smothers a laugh. “Wow. Women are paying for the hope of you calling them. Will you?”

“She owns a ranch, and I do like horses.”