“How about this, then?” Meredith sipped her wine and tilted her head to the side. “I won’t force you to listen to me, again, by the way, because I think I already tried…”
She arched a brow.
I rolled my eyes. “Can you please stop telling me I told you so?”
“Sure. Happily.” She grinned like a maniac. “If you agree that if I find someone who fits exactly what you think you’re looking for, you’ll consider it for twenty-four hours before telling me no.”
Think? I knew what I wanted. Someone who was the complete opposite of Darrick in every single way I could imagine.
If the tall, lean, tennis-playing, country club blond, blue-eyed boy who looked like the sweetest boy in the world could screw me over this epically, my next guy would be his exact opposite.
“Exactly what I’m looking for?”
She reached into her Burberry bag and pulled out her old-school paper planner, flipping to the notebook at the back. “Let’s make a list. Shall we?”
She clicked the tip of her pen and put it to paper.
I’d play this game. And make it completely impossible for Meredith to deliver. Then I’d never have to be the target of her matchmaking again.
Drop-dead sexy.
A little bit rough looking.
Tattoos because Darrick said they were skanky and classless, even if I’d always wanted one.
A body that showed confidence and his ability to please a woman.
Maybe a piercing somewhere. Anywhere.
He had to be strong.
Most importantly, he needed to be a little possessive and a whole lot protective even if he wasn’t looking for forever.
The forever part was what was going to get me out of this.
No man went to Meredith if they were looking for a good time and not a long time.
I sat back in my booth when we were done, grinning behind my wineglass at Meredith’s scowl.
Checkmate to me.
CHAPTER 3
DAWSON
Just over four months ago, I was celebrating Christmas alone, exactly how I liked it. I ended the year on a high note. My football team smashed our regular season and our eyes were on planning for the postseason. I had everything I wanted, exactly how I wanted it.
Then Crystal showed up and started wreaking havoc. She might as well have shown up at my house that day with a wrecking ball in tow for as much damage as she caused.
Six weeks after I finally kicked her ass out with a check for a million dollars and telling her it was the last penny she’d ever receive from me, I was still paying for her visit.
Not with money, but with an ultimatum.
“Fans don’t like you, Dawson. They might like the touchdowns you score, but in this day and age where everyone and everything is on social media, your off-the-field attitude matters as much, if not more, than your on-the-field performance.”
“What are you getting at?”
I’d been called to his office the day after my arrest. Fortunately, the man whose face I almost broke in two—by accident, mostly—wasn’t pressing charges if I paid the medical bills.
Fine. Happy to.
I had no doubt they’d be minimal compared to what Rick Marchand, our team’s general manager, had in store for me.
“Your contract is up after next season. You’ll be a free agent. I need a reason to convince the rest of the organization to keep you. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about your personality, or lack of one, but if you want to see the field this season, and stay beyond…”
He waited for me to respond.
“I do.” I absolutely did.
I started my career in Nashville and wanted to end it here. I didn’t have that many more years left. Getting bounced to a new team now, especially with us on the cusp of going to the Super Bowl was not how I wanted to go out.
“Good. Then you need to play for me right now.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
He danced around the topic for several more minutes before finally singing.
Find a girlfriend. A suitable one. Plaster my happy little relationship all over social media. Take the non-required interviews that were now required for me. Meet with our social media manager to get me all over the internet proving what a stable, kind guy I was.
If I wanted to stay in Nashville, I was Rick’s new puppet. A marionette, really, because he basically shoved his fist up my ass and owned me.
Four months later and I had the Super Bowl Championship, an empty, quiet house, and I was no closer to figuring out how to fulfill the deal I’d made with Rick than I was the day I agreed to it.
Time was ticking down though, and I was out of options.
I needed help, and for the first time in my life, I was going to have to ask for it.
“Shit,” I grumbled and hauled myself out of my pool where I’d been swimming laps to try to clear my mind.
How in the hell did one go on finding a girlfriend, someone Rick and our team’s management would find acceptable? I found women at bars and clubs, occasionally on the road. I’d used the dating app for celebrities, but I wasn’t going there again.
Too many narcissist drama queens who were better at gaslighting than any man I’d ever met.
I needed someone simple. Quiet. Believable. I needed her to want the exact same things I did so there were no complications once I fulfilled my end of the deal and we went our separate ways.
I grabbed a towel and dried my hair and gave my body a quick wipe-down before heading to the shower.
If I needed help, I needed my brothers. My teammates.
The ones I could trust to keep this quiet and who could actually give me decent advice were slim pickings, though.
Davis, who’d grown a lot since finding out he got a girl pregnant on a one-night stand and who was now planning their wedding in a few weeks, was at least trying to take this seriously. Mason Yeets, on the other hand, was looking like a kid in a candy shop at the prospect of finding me a girlfriend.
I called Davis because he was the only person who I’d mentioned this to and that was moments before we took the field for the Super Bowl. Not the right time but getting it off my chest then had allowed me to focus on helping our team win the game.
I didn’t have brothers growing up, only teammates, but I imagined the look on Davis’s face would be one a brother would make when they were trying to keep from laughing their asses off.
Cole Buchanan, my saving grace, was inside grabbing us all beers while the other two lunatics and myself were hanging out on the covered patio of my backyard, overlooking acres of land, my pool, and a putting green.
“I can’t believe you haven’t found someone yet,” Davis said. “It’s been months.”
“It’s not like chicks who make management happy come in a catalog.”
Mason hid his laughter, poorly, behind his fist. “Catalog. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Didn’t they used to do that way back when? Mail-order bride or some shit? Maybe do that, bruh. Put out a wanted ad online.”
If he was closer to me, I’d punch him. He probably took the seat across the table from me so he could be this big of a jackass and stay out of my reach.
“Right. That’s what Rick meant when he told me to be someone respected. A billboard in Times Square was just what he was thinking.”