Page 9 of Dirty Player
“Don’t let her fool you, Kolby. She’s a viper.”
I snorted and licked my wrist. “Right. I’m a regular siren.”
Beaux caught the defeated tone in my voice and kicked me under the table.
“Your problem,” he said, reaching for his own shot and sliding one to Kolby, “is that you tried for years to be good enough for some limp-dicked prick, and never once realized that you were too good for him to begin with.”
“Ah, guy trouble. That’s what the tequila is for.”
I shot a glance toward Kolby and tapped my glass to his. “The tequila is for fun.”
Screw it. I didn’t need Beaux’s reminder or pep talk.
Kolby sent me a smirk and our glasses clinked together before we shot the liquor.
The burn hit my tongue, my throat, clawing its way down to my stomach. I pressed my lips together and took the lime Beaux offered, thankful for the sour to help.
I still couldn’t hold back the face I pulled as I took one last swallow. Nothing evaporated it until Beaux handed me another shot.
“After three it doesn’t hurt so much.”
“Fantastic. Once I can’t feel anything then it will taste good.”
“Yup.” Kolby and Beaux slammed another shot with me before Kolby slid his glasses and limes into the center of the table.
I took my third without hesitating. “Where’s your daughter tonight?”
Kolby took a sip of his water glass. “With my ma. They’re at home, unpacking.”
He shook his head, his eyes filled with that same awed look Beaux had for the entire first year of playing for the Vikings. The “how did this become my life?” look.
I still saw it spark in Beaux from time to time, but a few years in, the wealth and shock was diminishing and being replaced with a new normal.
“You moved your mom up here, too?”
A muscle popped in his cheek and I sensed I’d touched a topic he didn’t want to discuss. “Ma’s the only one I trust to watch Mya.”
I didn’t understand the love a parent had for their child—not personally—but I’d seen my mom sacrifice in order to try to give us everything. It was that memory, of my mom coming home from work only to have time to shower and go to another job, that made me slide my hand around Kolby’s shoulder and squeeze. “You’re a good dad, Kolby.”
“Let’s hope she thinks so.”
“She will.”
“Need more shots?” Beaux asked, his hand already in the air and waving down the waitress.
The burn of the liquor in my veins made my cheeks and chest warm. I was feeling relaxed and tipsy.
I shook my head. “No. One more beer and I should be good.”
He rolled his eyes playfully. “So much for drunk and stupid.”
“Oh, there’s still plenty of time for stupid.”
“Right,” Beaux teased. “Of course.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. We both knew me. I had never been a partier and with the drinks and the warmth and the dim lights, I already wanted to get to the apartment and start cleaning the shower and floors so I could move in.
I had too much of my mom in me, and not enough of Beaux. I blamed the fact that we had different fathers.
