Personal Foul: A Sports Office Standalone Romance Read online

  Returning home for the summer had been last on my list of options, but in the end, it was for the best. My scholarship covered the first two years and it had been rough balancing a job with a full class load last year.

  My mom raised me as a single parent since I was five when my dad took off out of town. He never even bothered to look back. She’s done her part in raising me, and I hated the thought of relying on her. All I needed was a place to stay for the summer. I’d work, save up the money, and get my ass back to Chapel Hill to finish my last year as a Tarheel.

  When I saw the band A Rebels Havoc printed across the flyer on the door, the deal was sealed. I knew this was a huge mistake.

  “Here ya go.” Placing a napkin on the counter, the bartender set the glass down in front of me.

  So, here I was, back home for the summer, waiting for Kyla to show up. Once I saw the flyer, I immediately knew why she asked to meet here tonight. I can’t blame her for not telling me sooner. If I knew A Rebels Havoc was going to be playing, I would’ve come up with an excuse as to why I couldn’t make it.

  I spot Kyla’s brother, Madden, duck through the door, causing a knot of unease to coil tighter in the pit of my stomach. Not at all because of Madden.

  It had everything to do with the guy walking through the door behind him.

  Some things never change.

  If only there were an eject button, some way to get me the hell out of here undetected.

  Brix was dressed in all black, from the baseball cap on his head to the t-shirt fitting him like it was tailor-made for him, to the black denim jeans molding to his body in all the right ways. Even from here, I can spot the thin, silver chain hanging around his neck. My eyes roam over the dark ink covering his left arm while he makes conversation with the bouncer, his dark eyes searching over the crowd.

  “There you are!” Kyla yells, as I glance over my shoulder.

  She’s gorgeous, her lavender-colored hair styled in curls pulled away from her face with a black choker wrapped around her neck. Her lips are painted a fire-engine red, and I’m starting to feel like I underdressed in my denim shorts, black tank top, and black espadrille sandals.

  “Hey, girl.” I smile at my friend, wrapping my arm around her for a hug.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.” She bounces on her feet, clapping her hands. As much as I’m happy to see her, I wish I could say the same for myself.

  “I didn’t know your brother would be playing tonight.”

  Maybe it’s the forced smile on my face or the sudden realization of the tidbit of information she forgot to share with me about tonight, her head turns away from me, eyes searching through the crowd. Mine follow along with hers until we both spot the guys near the front of the bar by the stage.

  “If you don’t want to stay to watch them, I understand.”

  “It’s fine.”

  I’m not going to let him push me out of here. He’s gotten away with embarrassing me and making me uncomfortable, to the point I’d take off running.

  I’ll be fuckin’ damned if I let that shit slide again.

  “Let’s go find a table,” she suggests while pointing her thumb over the wall wrapped around the side of the bar lined with booths. The name, Whiskey Barrel, fits the rustic feel. It’s all weathered wood and iron beams.

  Swiping my drink off the bar, I motion with the glass for her to lead the way. We find an empty booth near the front, which happens to also be close to the stage.

  “Hey,” Madden says, approaching us. “I had no idea you were going to be here tonight.”

  Madden’s eyes bounce between his sister over to me. His narrow, trying to place me.

  A lot has changed over the years. I’m not the same girl I was when I left Carolina Beach. Living on my own for the first time in my life forced me to learn a lot about myself. I found a voice, a confidence I didn’t have when I was stuck in this hellhole of a town, and a style that suits me. I wasn’t exactly the definition of pretty and popular back in high school. I’ve come a long way from my pimply face, oversized hoodies, and baggy jeans.

  “Who’s this?” Madden points to me.

  “What the hell, Madd? It’s Ivy.”

  Madden’s eyes widen in recognition. They do a quick sweep of my body, as if seeing it for the first time, before finally meeting mine again. His mouth drops slightly, shaking himself from his thoughts, before he grins.

  “Wow, Ivy. I didn’t even recognize you.”

  He reaches his hands toward me, giving me a casual hug. When he steps back, I eye his black t-shirt with A Rebels Havoc printed across the front. His backward plaid hat paired with his well-kept beard gives off lumberjack vibes.

  When I was in high school, I would often stay over at Kyla’s house on the weekends. She was the closest thing I had to a sister, having grown up an only child. Madden took on the role of the pseudo big brother, looking after and protecting both of us.

  Even when his band of dimwits came around, he would always keep an eye on us, threatening to knock some sense into anyone who didn’t leave us alone. He’d never let anybody fuck with his sister, and I was thankful I was included in that, too.

  “You look so… grown-up?” he mutters, bewildered. “Different… but in a good way.”

  “You ready to set up?” Brix interrupts. He may be the bane of my existence, but he’s still one of Madden’s best friends. He claps Madden on the shoulder before his eyes stop, falling on me.

  I knew the moment Brix looked at me, the way his eyes did the same once-over Madden’s just had, he didn’t recognize me either. The only difference in how Brix looked at me was the not-so-subtle way he bit his lip before rubbing his hand over his chin, enjoying his blatant perusal of my body.

  All the memories of him making fun of me growing up flash through my mind like a highlight reel of my high school years.

  To say I hated Brix Ward would be a mild understatement. If he were to go up in flames standing in front of me, I wouldn’t bother to offer him the glass of water in my hand.

  “Yeah, man,” Madden grunts, slapping him on the chest. “Give me a sec to grab a beer, and I’ll be ready.”

  “I need a drink, too. I’ll come with you,” Kyla echos. She eyes me nervously, her eyes flash over to Brix, hesitant if she should leave us alone. I nod my head toward the bar, assuring her it’s alright, I’ve got this.

  “Be nice,” Kyla jests, smacking Brix on the chest.

  He has the nerve to act wounded, rubbing his hand where she had touched him, shouting over the music toward her asking, “What the hell was that for?”

  I roll my eyes, taking another sip of whiskey.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  The words roll off his tongue, and I don’t hold back my cringe of disgust. Is this how he picks up women?

  “Not interested.”

  “Oh, really.” He laughs. He glances around us, checking to see if anyone may have overheard, before looking back to me. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Oh, trust me,” I chuckle, “I’m very sure.”

  “Is this some sort of hard-to-get move? ‘Cause I happen to like a chase, but you should know, I always get what I want in the end.”

  My eyes widen, nodding my head at his audacity. I’m afraid if I roll my eyes any harder, they’ll end up rolling out of my damn head. Does this garbage actually work on women?

  Who am I kidding? Of course, it does.

  I’m not blind to the heated stares blazing into him, eating him up like he’s some sort of sugary piece of eye candy.

  I’ll admit it. He’s not bad to look at if you’re only looking at his appearance. If he hadn’t been the sole reason for making my life miserable years ago, I might even be able to overlook the fact he’s a player who’s looking to score and give in to his advances for one night.

  “I’m not playing hard-to-get. I don’t think there’s anything you could say or do that would ever make me want to sleep with you. Hell, I’m certain more than ha
lf of Carolina Beach already has.”

  His face falls for a second, but he recovers quickly. If I had to guess, he wasn’t expecting this much resistance. Something tells me he’s not used to being rejected.

  “How the hell would you know?” he barks, the tension in his neck and shoulders growing stiff, his eyes narrowing into slits.

  “This isn’t the first time we’ve met.” I smile, thoroughly enjoying this little taste of karma on my lips. I reach my hand out between us and say, “You may not recognize me, but my name is Ivy Thomas. I wish I could say it was nice to see you again, but we both know that’s not true. Ain’t that right, Brix?”

  His eyes widen in recollection before a salacious grin spreads across his arrogant face.

  “Ivy fuckin’ Thomas. It’s too fucking bad, even knowing that I’d still fuck you like it’s the best you’ll ever have.”

  “You’re a real prick.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Brix takes a swig of his beer, not taking his eyes off me.

  “Yo, Brix!” a voice booms through the speaker. We both turn our attention toward the stage to find their other bandmate, Tysin, staring back at us with his hands up and an annoyed expression on his face.

  “If you change your mind, come find me after the show.”

  He has the fucking nerve to wink at me before he turns, heading toward Tysin, Madden joining them as they start setting up the rest of their band equipment.

  “What did he say to you?” Kyla asks, returning with a beer bottle in her hand.

  “He didn’t even recognize me,” I snicker. “Tried hitting on me, probably assuming he could convince me to come home with him. I turned that shit down real quick.”

  “You’re kidding,” she snorts.

  “Not in the least. You should’ve seen the look on his face when I introduced myself.”

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe I missed it.” She giggles, looking both amused and disappointed.

  We slide into our booth, catching up. We spot a few people I remember from high school who stop by to chat with us before the show starts.

  I’ve watched the guys play before, although it was years ago when they played on their makeshift stage in Madden’s garage. Thankfully, their dad eventually said they had to find somewhere else to keep their equipment, which meant they started coming around less and less.

  When they take the stage a little while later, I try to avoid showing any interest, but even I can’t deny they’re good. I’m thankful for the lights being turned down, so I’m able to hide in the darkness from the possibility of Brix spotting me.

  The last thing I want is for him to see me watching him or give him the satisfaction of thinking I’m enjoying his performance. I’ve seen a lot of bands play while pursuing a career in music journalism. I’d never utter these words to anyone, but I’m surprised they haven’t been scooped up by a major record label. They’re talented.

  Brix smiles flirtatiously at the crowd while he sings, leaning over the speaker, letting the women in the front touch him, thrusting toward their roaming hands.

  Tysin plays the bass guitar next to Brix, nodding his head to the beat of the music. Madden’s size alone makes him hard to miss sitting behind his drums.

  I watch in awe for most of their set before I decide to cut out early and head to my new home. Exhaustion from packing up my car and making the drive back to CB weighed on me. A text from my mom came through around midnight as she was boarding her red-eye flight home. She left me with detailed instructions on where to find her hide-a-key and directions to the room I’d be staying in for the summer.

  When she called me last week, I was in the heat of finals. My workload was piled high, and every available minute was spent with my head crammed in my books. When she broke the news she had gotten engaged, I couldn’t believe my ears.

  Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day she’d want to get remarried after her divorce from my father. I spent an hour on the phone listening to her gush over the man, Jasper, she recently met and how she’d been swept away in their whirlwind romance ever since.

  I was shocked when she broke the news that not only had he asked her to marry him, but she had also recently decided to move in. It wasn’t a big deal to me in the grand scheme of things. We had bounced around from place to place throughout my childhood, so it wasn’t like I was coming home to a familiar house I had lived in all my life only to find out it was now gone.

  It made the decision to come home for the summer all the more difficult, but in the end, I needed the help. I needed to find a job and save up money, so when I went back to school, I could put all focus on my degree.

  I wanted to find a way to enjoy the next couple of months while I was here, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what happened next.

  Two

  Brix

  I don’t remember who brought me home, much less why I chose to crash on the couch, of all places. My back screams in agony from the pain and stiffness, moving to stretch, peeking one eye open.

  The piercing ray of sunlight combined with the skull-splitting headache has me regretting the round of shots we had after wrapping up our show last night.

  It wasn’t the first time it happened, and it won’t be the last.

  I miscalculate the space between me and the edge of the couch when I roll on my side, sending me falling face-first onto the hardwood floor.

  “God damn,” I groan, bracing my hands beneath me, pushing myself up. Feeling weak, I reach for the edge of the oak coffee table to help me up.

  Beer cans litter the surface, reminding me of the one too many drinks I put away when I got home.

  “What the hell was I thinking?”

  I wince hearing the sound of a throat clearing behind me. I expect it to be my father, which should have me regretting my choices from last night even more. Except that would mean I gave a shit, which I don’t. I stopped worrying about what he thought of me a long time ago.

  I rub the pads of my fingers over my eyes, delaying the inevitable moment when I glance up to find him staring bullets through me, adding yet another reason for being a disgrace of a son to the list.

  “Are you waiting for me to answer that question?”

  The soft voice from behind catches me off guard, sending my head jolting over my shoulder. The sharp movement causes a shooting pain to slice up the column of my neck. I roll my eyes shut, groaning in agony.

  Her quiet chuckle follows. Whoever it is clearly relishes in my pain.

  Pushing to sit on the edge of the couch, I fall back against the cushions, tilting my head in her direction. When I finally manage to open my eyes enough, I wonder for a second if I somehow misplaced where I was or what the hell happened last night.

  What was I thinking?

  Did Ivy end up coming home with me?

  Hell no.

  Thinking back to the scant denim shorts she wore showing off her sculpted legs nearly has me biting my lip at all the thoughts swirling through my mind. My eyes rake over her body once again, pausing as they land on her tan legs. She’s active, judging by the clothes she’s wearing combined with her tight body.

  Recalling how she all too joyously turned me down, followed by the smirk lining those sexy-ass lips when she pointed out who she is, left the sting of embarrassment ringing clear in my memory.

  Yeah... there’s no way she would’ve come home with me. If that’s the case, what the hell is she doing standing in my living room with the look of disdain painted like a neon sign on her face?

  “What the hell are you doing here? Did you break into my fucking house? Or is this your way of twisting the knife deeper after last night?”

  She laughs. The sound coming out both sexy and frustrating. Her head is thrown back and strands of her long, dark hair are falling over her shoulder.

  “The fact you think I give a shit about you or would even consider wasting another second on your bullshit is hilarious.”

  Well, okay then. It still doesn’t answer t
he question of why the hell she is in my house?

  As if reading my mind, she continues, “I’m actually wondering the same thing.” She clenches her jaw. She looks so fucking sexy, the way her cheeks turn rosy. If this is how she looks when she’s mad, I can’t wait to see her when she’s turned on.

  “Like I said, sweetheart”—I lean forward, bracing my hands on my knees to stand— “this is my house. I live here.”

  Facing her now, the subtle tick in her jaw at the term of endearment does not escape me. Anger blazes in her eyes when she crosses her arms in front of her chest. She widens her stance like she’s gearing up for the argument that’s about to ensue.

  “Are you sure you still don’t want to take me up on my offer from last night? I have no problem letting you take a little aggression out on me.”

  I reach my hand out, brushing my knuckle along the ink covering her forearm. Goose bumps rise over her skin, and despite her best effort to paste the look of hatred on her face, her body gives her away. She’s trying to play it off, hoping like hell I won’t notice, but I flash her a grin letting her know she’s not fooling me.

  “Something tells me the hate-sex will be some of the best fucking I’ve ever had,” I moan, wrapping my hand around her wrist.

  She grits her teeth, whipping her arm out of my hold. Seeing how riled up she is, I bite my lip to cover my bemused smile. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy letting her take her anger out on me.

  Nails in my back, teeth marking my skin. Fuck.

  “If you think I’d ever let your dick anywhere near me, you’ve gotta be fuckin’ crazy. I bet you have shit growing on you from all the places that thing’s been.”

  “You better watch your fuckin’ mouth,” I grunt, tension coiling in my body, taking a step closer to her. She smiles like the Cheshire cat, apparently liking how she’s pissed me off.

  Yeah, the hate-sex is gonna be real fuckin’ good for the both of us.

  A familiar sound of keys sliding into the lock followed by the click of the deadbolt has us both turning toward the door. Laughter filters through the room, and my eyes bounce back over to Ivy. The smell of her clean scent washes over me; the way her throat bobs when she swallows ignites a fire within me.