Big Time: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Read online

  Big Time

  A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  By KB Winters

  Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Contents

  Big Time

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Bonus Books!

  Fate Interrupted - The Complete Series

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Fate Interrupted Book 1

  Chapter One — Remy

  Chapter Two — Livvie

  Chapter Three — Remy

  Chapter Four — Remy

  Chapter Five — Remy

  Chapter Six — Livvie

  Chapter Seven — Remy

  Chapter Eight — Remy

  Chapter Nine — Livvie

  Chapter Ten — Remy

  Chapter Eleven — Livvie

  Fate Interrupted Book 2

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Chapter One — Remy

  Chapter Two — Livvie

  Chapter Three — Remy

  Chapter Four — Livvie

  Chapter Five — Remy

  Chapter Six — Livvie

  Chapter Seven — Remy

  Chapter Eight — Livvie

  Chapter Nine — Remy

  Chapter Ten — Livvie

  Chapter Eleven — Remy

  Fate Interrupted Book 3

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Chapter One — Remy

  Chapter Two — Livvie

  Chapter Three — Remy

  Chapter Four — Remy

  Chapter Five — Livvie

  Chapter Six — Livvie

  Chapter Seven — Livvie

  Chapter Eight — Remy

  Chapter Nine — Livvie

  Chapter Ten — Livvie

  Epilogue

  More from KB Winters

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Langston

  “You need to listen to me, Rose, or this could turn into the worst day of your life.”

  I scoffed. “Theatrics much, Dawson?”

  Carter Dawson, my professional shit show handler—technically referred to as my business manager—leveled me with one of his fierce, closing argument stares. “I’m not fucking around with you. This is serious.”

  I sucked in a sigh and leaned back in the padded leather chair that sat opposite Carter at his place behind a large, espresso finished desk. I glanced around the room and fixated on the large painting behind Carter’s head. That way I didn’t have to meet his narrowed stare. I knew he was pissed at me. Although I wasn’t entirely sure why this time was any different than the last half a dozen. A bar fight was a bar fight, wasn’t it? Besides, my fuck ups paid for his fancy office, small army of sports cars, and access to a private jet. So why the hell did he care?

  “I thought this would be settled by now,” I growled, halfway under my breath.

  “I did too,” Carter said. My eyes dropped six inches and met his stare again. The man looked tired. More so than usual. Guess that was my fault too.

  “All right. What do you need me to do?”

  Carter adjusted his silver tie and leaned forward, bringing his hands to rest on top of his desk. “In an hour, when we’re before the judge, I need you to keep your mouth shut. When the judge asks you what you have to say, you apologize for the altercation, agree to pay the man’s medical bills—” I snorted out loud at his statement. Carter’s eyes narrowed even further and the smile dropped off my lips. I raised a hand and he continued, “And then, offer up some charitable donation. Here is a list of three charities that I know the judge personally supports. Take your pick. That should appease him.”

  Carter handed me a glossy sheet of paper with the logos for three different charities listed. I waved the paper away. “Just pick one. I don’t care. Send the info to Macy and she’ll get it taken care of.”

  Carter sighed and placed the paper back on his desk. He folded his hands again. “Langston, I need you to care. I need you to give a shit about your future here. This wasn’t just a drunk argument in a bar and you know it.”

  “I do?”

  He scowled.

  “Fine, fine. It was stupid, I get that.” I dropped a quick glance down at my own hands as they lay palms down on my thighs. I was dressed for court, a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt. I looked like a fucking bank manager. I yearned for my normal attire. I wasn’t supposed to be in a tailored suit, my size fifteen feet stuffed into shiny loafers, and I definitely wasn’t supposed to have a tie choking me. It was the off-season, which meant lounging poolside, half naked—or fully, depending on the company—and drinking all damn day.

  “Rose, this is the last shot we have at keeping you out of jail. And I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen if the judge wants to make an example of you and send your ass to prison. No more football, no more fortune and fame, no more fancy cars and desperate gold digger play toys.”

  Now it was my turn to scowl. What the hell did he know? He was married with three kids clinging to him whenever he managed to escape the confines of his office and go home to his bland, but safe, four thousand square foot home in a gated community outside the grimy streets of Bitsberg, Ohio.

  Carter must’ve sensed that he stepped over a line and held up his hands in silent surrender. “I’m not here to judge, Langston. But you also don’t pay me to sugar coat the truth. And right now, the truth is that if the judge wants to take this to trial, and we can’t find a way to get Mr. Waterside to drop the charges…you could be looking at assault and battery charges. Plus, the DA will probably try to fluff it up with some public indecency charges and get some fake ass witnesses that say you left the club behind the wheel of your own car and add on a DUI.”

  For the first time since the shit hit the fan, a cold sweat rolled over me. This was really happening? A drunken mistake six weeks ago was now approaching mass destruction levels.

 
I scrubbed a hand over my freshly shaved jawline. “And the settlement…?”

  Carter hitched his shoulders. “They’re not budging. We just countered this morning. I don’t have a sense of what’s going to happen.”

  “Fuck.”

  Carter nodded. “Yeah.”

  He gave a look at the pricey watch on his wrist. “We need to go. You clear on everything?”

  “Keep my mouth shut. Donate a pile of cash. Smile—”

  “No! No smiling. You need to look downcast. Remorseful. For fuck’s sake, whatever you do, do not smile.”

  “Right.” I heaved myself from the chair and tugged at the front of my jacket, wishing for the hundredth time that I wasn’t wearing it. I clocked in at six three and two-hundred and twenty pounds. Sure, a suit looked fucking good on me but it wasn’t even remotely close to comfortable. As the middle linebacker for the Bitsberg Cannons I was used to spandex and poly-cotton blends. My entire life was spent in athletic wear.

  Except for my court appearances, which were becoming all too frequent these days.

  I probably should work on that.

  “Let’s go,” Carter said, holding the door open for me.

  I followed him through his office, ignoring the whispers that I left in my wake. Carter had arranged for a driver to take us to the courthouse and we sat wordlessly in the back seat for the fifteen-minute drive. Apparently, Carter had already said everything he needed to. He spent the ride staring out his window. I wondered if he was thinking about the case or if it was something more like regretting picking me up as a client. God knows I’d made him earn his keep over the last few years.

  I could almost hear him: Why couldn’t I have landed one of those pretty boy ballers whose worst offense is an occasional fender bender. I could spend my billable hours scaring off stalkers and baby mama wannabes. Not this assault and battery horseshit.

  He was probably right. But I was far from being the type of football player that the country worshiped like a nationally sanctioned saint.

  No, Langston Rose was trained to be a monster on the field. And if my fans wanted me to be a nightmare on the field, they couldn’t then demand me to be a dreamboat the second I stepped off.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

  Carter’s curse drew my attention and I leaned over his shoulder to see his view. I groaned at the clusterfuck waiting for us to arrive. A horde of reporters, paparazzi, fans, and protesters were waiting on the steps of the courthouse. Signs were waving, flashes going off in rapid fire, and as we neared, a dull roar of cheers and jeers were erupting from the crowd.

  “This is like a horror movie,” Carter bemoaned before giving the driver instructions. The driver circled the block, pulling away from the crowd. Carter whipped a cell phone from his pocket and called his security team to get them in place before we pulled back around again.

  I settled back against my seat as he made the arrangements. I just wanted to get the entire fiasco over with. It was all so stupid. Six weeks ago I’d been drinking at a club. I’d spotted a hot as fuck woman in a red dress and like a bull to the matador, charged her full speed. I used every trick to get her to agree to leave with me. Eventually, I got her on my side and we were minutes away from leaving together when some guy came flying out of nowhere. He said he was her ex. I asked if she wanted to leave with me or the new joker and she picked me. The guy went ballistic, cussing her out, and when he took a swing for me, I put him in his place. Down on the mother fuckin’ ground.

  Of course, the hundreds of camera phones in the vicinity had only turned on to capture the drama after things went sideways and no one really knew what sparked the fight. However, with my reputation as a bad boy baller with a chip on his shoulder—I was instantly painted as the villain.

  Normally these bar fights result in a settlement, a gag order, and a few weeks of overblown media coverage. Then, when it fades, everyone goes on like it never happened. But this time, it was different. The guy turned out to be some local politician’s son and that meant deep shit for me.

  Deep shit that I was still trying to get out of. A task that was infinitely more difficult with the swarm of people on the courthouse steps.

  We rounded back to the steps and the security Carter had called in was positioned at the curb. Three guys—probably my size—all in black Secret Service getups, waited for us to pull up. They pressed the crowd back but as soon as I exited the SUV they went insane and surged forward. I was all but dragged up the steps, trying to keep my shit together before I screamed at them all to back the fuck up.

  Once inside, Carter and I both exhaled a sigh of relief to be away from the madness. Carter glanced over at me and gave a quick nod. It meant job well done. I didn’t freak out and shoot my mouth off.

  Who says people can’t change?

  Carter’s phone rang and as he fished it from his pocket his eyes went wide. “It’s Laura.”

  Laura Ridgely was a hot little piece of PR ass that worked at Carter’s firm. I hadn’t managed to score with her yet, but she was on the top five of my to-do list.

  “What did he say?” Carter snapped, not bothering with normal pleasantries. He listened intently. “Good. Good. Okay…excellent. Good work, Ridgely.”

  Carter hung up and turned to face me, grinning from ear-to-ear. “He settled.”

  “Really?” Tension left my chest like a deflated balloon.

  Carter nodded. “Yes, but don’t go doing that ridiculous touchdown dance of yours just yet. We still have to meet with the judge.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The state can still press charges and I imagine they’ll want to, considering you’re a big fish.”

  “Fan-fuckin’-tastic.”

  Carter gave a grim nod. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

  We scurried to the right court room and were ushered inside. The DA was already there, sharply dressed with an even sharper glare my way as I took my seat beside Carter. I resisted the urge to flip him the bird. The judge came in and Carter stiffened. He was ready to go to war. And judging from the look on the DA’s face, it was going to be a battle.

  After all the opening procession bullshit, we all took our seats. I tried my best not to look bored. Carter’s voice was drilled into my head, reminding me not to slouch, look smug, yawn, or really even move other than to blink the appropriate amount of times. It was like I was being tried for serial murders or something.

  The DA stood and addressed the judge. “Your Honor, it is my understanding that a settlement has been reached between the defendant and the victim.”

  Victim? Ha!

  Carter stood when the judge’s eyes roved toward him. “That’s correct, Your Honor. They are dropping all charges.”

  The DA scoffed.

  Carter snapped a wicked look to his opponent. “Comments, St. Clair?”

  “Gentlemen, it’s late in the day and I haven’t had lunch. Don’t press me,” the judge said.

  I suppressed a smirk.

  The judge continued, “If there are no charges—”

  “Wait! If I may, Your Honor,” the DA interjected.

  The judge gave an annoyed nod.

  “My office would still like to pursue this matter, given the defendant’s stature and reputation—”

  Carter pounced. “There’s no need for this to be dragged out! If the two parties were able to work this misunderstanding out without the need for a full hearing, then why continue?”

  The two men bantered back and forth while the judge watched them like a boring tennis match. After a moment, he turned his gaze to me. “Enough! Both of you. I’d like to hear from Mr. Rose now.”

  I pushed up from my seat, fidgeted with the button on my suit jacket and met the judge’s dark eyes. “Your Honor, I deeply regret the actions that led to this hearing. I will have a public apology issued through my agent and will donate twenty-five thousand dollars to the—” Shit. What was the name of the charity?

  I gave a nervous glance at Carter
and he jumped in to save me. “To the Harvest House, Your Honor. The donation is already in the works.”

  The judge didn’t look impressed.

  “It won’t happen again, Your Honor,” I said, halfway knowing it was probably a lie. Hey, I wasn’t under oath. If some loud mouth wanted to play tough in a club after I’d had a few drinks, I’d flatten his ass. Promise or no promise.

  The judge leaned back in his cushy chair and steepled his fingers together. “Mr. Rose, I can appreciate your apology and the desire to do some good with the donation. As you likely know, Harvest House is one of my favorite charities. However, that’s not going to be enough, I’m afraid.”

  My spine went ramrod straight, waiting for his next words.

  “As a football fan myself, I know you have a handful of weeks before pre-season starts. I think we can find a way of using that time that will benefit the community as well as yourself, if you allow for it.”

  What the hell was he getting at?

  “I am sentencing you to one hundred hours of community service at Harvest House. I think your time and personal commitment will go a lot farther than a check. Don’t you?”

  With everything inside of me, I wanted to tell him that no, I didn’t think me being in some community service program was a good use of my time, but disagreeing with him would probably lead to a hearing before a self-admittedly asshole judge. And jail time would mean the end of my career.

  It was too big of a risk.

  So, I did the only thing I could—I nodded in agreement with a big ass smile on my face. “That seems fair, Your Honor.”

  “Excellent. You’ll report to Harvest House first thing on Monday morning and serve twenty hours a week over the next five weeks.”

  “I will be there, Your Honor.”

  “Good. I look forward to it.”

  Well fuck! I didn’t!

  Chapter Two

  Cassie

  For the first time in what felt like a decade—I was going out on a Friday night. Not entirely by choice, but that was beside the point. As I applied the last coat of my favorite ruby red matte lipstick, I dared a smile. Maybe Park was right. I did need a night out. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, all dolled up, it was like seeing a long lost friend.