Page 59 of Filthy Player
I snickered. In the two weeks since she’d been at our place, I’d found out Melanie wasn’t just a really great and patient nurse, she was hilarious and sweet. I didn’t possibly think there were really people in the world as gentle and kind and good as her.
She also came from one of the most normal sounding families I’d ever heard of. She had a sister and a brother, parents who were married for forty-nine years. They still got together once a week for family dinners.
When I stayed home on Friday, Melanie and I opened a bottle of wine and had an impromptu girl’s night in.
It was the exact kind of night I missed from living in Charlotte and one I’d desperately needed.
“I’ll slap you,” I offered Melanie.
She giggled and settled my dad right behind the top row of chairs. “This okay?” she asked, locking the wheel and getting Dad’s attention.
“Perfect. Thanks, Melanie.”
She patted his hand and came to my side. I was standing back, surveying the field but it only took moments for me to recognize Beaux out on the field as the team warmed up.
It helped he was the one throwing the ball and I knew his number. Even without that, it would have been easy to spot him. Besides being one of the tallest guys out there, I’d spent the last week memorizing his body, running my hands over every accentuated muscle.
“Careful,” Melanie whispered, “I think you might be drooling.”
I shook my head. “I can’t help it.”
She clapped her hands together and nudged me with her hip. “Which one do I get?”
Apparently Melanie was just as taken with the idea of dating a Rough Rider as I was starting to be.
“Don’t know,” I murmured. “I don’t know who’s single besides Kolby.”
A door opened behind us and the sweetest little voice I’d ever heard cried out, “Yook, Namma! Dere people here!”
Melanie and I both turned as Mya skipped into the room. She was wearing a teal skirt and white shirt with the Rough Rider’s logo on it. On her back, which I saw as she twirled and danced straight up to us, was Kolby’s name and number.
“Hi,” I said, crouching down her level. “You must be Mya.”
“I yam,” she almost shouted. “Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of Beaux’s. Your dad said we could watch the games this year with you. Is that okay?”
I looked from her to a beautiful African American woman who had entered behind her and arched a brow in question for her as well.
“Kolby said what he’d done,” she said. Her smile was friendly as she approached. “I’m Charlayne, Kolby’s mom, but everyone calls me Char.”
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Paige, and this is my dad, Sam, and his nurse and our friend Melanie.”
We made the introductions all while Mya bounced to each of us, shouting more hellos and then she skipped off to where Shane stood.
“Chocowate milk, pease, Mister Shane!”
“Already have it ready,” he said. He grinned at her, I was certain all of us were. Mya was a sweet little bundle of energy. It was no wonder why Kolby said she’d enjoy the game with more people around here.
“That girl is either hopped up on sugar while she’s here or bored to tears. It’s nice to have some company,” Char said, getting my attention from Mya who was slurping chocolate milk out of a straw and handing it back to Shane requesting more. “I’d tell her no more, but it’s pretty much the only time Kolby allows her to have sweets.”
“Strict dad?”
“Ha! Doting dad, but he’s got a sweet tooth unlike I’ve ever seen in a grown man. During the season he refuses to allow anything unhealthy into his body. When it comes to sweets, he has the self-control of a mosquito.”
I laughed at the image of Kolby Jones not having self-control. “I suppose it’s done him well, he’s looking great this year. Thanks for letting us join you guys, too. It was really nice of the guys to do this for my dad.”
“Child,” she said and set her hand on my arm. “All of us go through hard times. Trust me, I seen ‘em all, lived through most of ‘em. And when times are harder, ain’t nothing better than people at your back to hold you up. Sounds to me like you got that now if you didn’t before.”
