The Player and the Bet: An Enemies-to-Lovers College Sports Romance Read online

  On the surface Mace is charming, but I can tell that underneath he dislikes these people. He doesn’t want to talk to the third John or Bob of the night about how they used to play football—by warming the bench for one season.

  Every once in a while Mace will throw in an insult but hide it under a charming, sparkling smile, and the recipient isn’t sure what just happened. I watch it happen over and over again. They get a confused look on their face but are reassured by Mace still acting like they are friends. They continue the conversation but are now slightly uncomfortable because they aren’t one hundred percent sure what’s going on.

  Being in this new world that’s so foreign to me is interesting for a little while, but after an hour I’m bored out of my mind. I don’t fit in and no one is talking to me. Mace isn’t including me in any of the conversations, and I feel like people see my fifty-dollar dress and know I don’t belong so they avoid me like the plague.

  I know I’m supposed to be watching Mace to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, but he seems to be playing relatively nicely with everyone, so I pull out my phone to check the time. I wonder how long we have to stay for.

  I take a quick peek at my texts.

  Luna: How’s the frat house?? Is it gross?

  Jess: We might get pizza. Want some? I don’t think rich people eat much? Idk lol

  Luna: Omg how’s the party??

  Luna: I can’t wait until you get home and tell us everything!

  Luna: I’m dying

  Marty: Don’t let Mace get to you too much

  Marty: He’s not worth it

  Marty: It’ll be over soon

  Mace: I can’t stop staring at you.

  Jess: Hey snobby party person. We got pizza

  Mace: You look so hot. What are you doing to me

  Jess: Oh yeah we saved you some too hahaha

  Mace: Tease

  I look up with my mouth hanging open. Mace is talking with a new old guy and his wife. He’s not looking at me. He’s just smiling charmingly at the couple and giving no indication he’s even aware of my presence.

  I’ve been with him the entire night and haven’t seen him pull out his phone even once. How did he manage to text me without me noticing? Also, I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but it’s never going to happen. Besides, all the girls at this party—and back at school—would love to be with him, so why would he even bother hitting on me? Maybe he knows I hate him and he just likes the challenge. Or maybe it’s just physically impossible for him to be around a girl and not try to sleep with her.

  But despite the fact that earlier by the coat check my body responded to his as enthusiastically as a fan meeting their idol for the first time, there’s no chance in hell I’d ever sleep with Mace. He’s wasting his time. And it’s actually insulting he thinks he can treat me like crap and still believe he has any chance with me. He can’t stand me up, ignore me, say flat-out rude things to my face, and jeopardize my academic career, then think I’ll be into him just because he sends me a couple of dirty texts. He’s such an insufferable asshole.

  “We’d love to invite you to our ski chalet. If there’s a weekend that works for you, we’d love to have you and your girlfriend come up,” says the man talking to Mace.

  As what he said sinks in, I suddenly realize the man is looking at both Mace and me expectantly.

  “He’s not my boyfriend!” I blurt out.

  “Oh, my mistake,” the man says uncomfortably.

  Mace clenches his jaw slightly. “Pretty strong reaction there, TP. Is the thought of being my girlfriend that horrible?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I say without thinking. “I mean…” I don’t know what else to say, so I trail off awkwardly.

  The four of us stand around in uncomfortable silence.

  “Excuse us for a second,” Mace finally says.

  He guides me away, but after a couple of steps he stops and turns back to the couple. “And no, sorry, I don’t think we’ll ever be free to come to your chalet because I’d rather go to one of my father’s three ski chalets—which are probably much nicer than yours, and also I don’t have to make conversation so boring I want to kill myself when I’m there. But thank you so much for the offer.”

  “Mace!” I hiss.

  I grab his arm and drag him away before he can say anything more. I can’t help but notice how hard the muscles in his arm are, and I curse the way my body reacts to it. I’m supposed to keep him out of trouble, and I just let him insult those two very important people. Focus, Sadie.

  I drag him over to an empty corner of the room so there’s no one around for him to insult.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  “Oh, was I bad?” he asks with fake innocence. “Are you going to spank me?”

  He raises his eyebrows suggestively, and I just look at him like he’s gone insane.

  He lowers his eyebrows, then starts to rant. “Those people weren’t being nice. They were just trying to show off how much money they have. Why would they ever think someone in college would want to spend the weekend with two people in their fifties? Did they really think that was a good offer? Yeah, you get a free place to stay, but they’d want to you to ski with them and eat with them and—if they have their way—even sleep with them. It’s insulting as hell. People like that need to be put in their place.”

  “All they did was offer you a free ski trip. How is that an insult? They didn’t say you’re rude, or arrogant, or annoying, or insufferable—all very valid and insulting things to say about you, but they didn’t.”

  “If you want to talk about insulting, you got pretty insulted when they thought you were my girlfriend.”

  “Oh please, there’s no way you were insulted by my reaction. You’d never date me either.”

  “No, you’re right. I would never date you. You are incredibly annoying,” he says, and I roll my eyes. I feel like being around him is going to damage my eyes from all the rolling he makes them do.

  Suddenly, he takes a step closer. I can’t back up because there’s a wall behind me. I can smell him, and my heart starts beating a little quicker. He smells like an incredible combination of cologne, grass and cedar.

  He’s looking down into my eyes, and I can’t help but look up into his. They are narrowed in an appreciative way, like he’s assessing me and likes what he sees. He would be so hot if he never opened his mouth—but the next second he does and ruins it.

  “I would never date you, but I would be interested in giving you the fucking of a lifetime. I can make it so your legs won’t work for a week. You should take me up on it. When will you ever get the chance to sleep with someone like me again?”

  I scoff. “Is that supposed to woo me?”

  He gets a confident smirk on his face. “I’m just being honest. I could put your legs over my shoulders and have you screaming my name in seconds. You could even say my jersey number instead if you want.”

  I sneer in disgust but instead of getting insulted or backing off Mace seems to like it. He steps even closer so we are just barely touching. I can feel the heat of his body and how hard the muscles in his stomach are beneath his clothes.

  “I could press you into that wall behind you so you couldn’t move, and you can pretend you don’t want it easier that way—but we both know you do. You want to see what it’s like to be with the bad boy quarterback of Winterford. You want to see if I’m really as good as all the girls say.”

  He leans in even closer, and I can’t look away. He bends down until his breath tickles my skin. Closer and closer until his face is almost level with mine. I can’t even think. My brain has gone blank. I know I should tell him to get bent. I know I should push him away, but I can’t move.

  “I am that good,” he growls in my ear, and my eyes slam shut.

  Wetness pools between my legs, and I curse how my body is reacting to him. All he’s done is brush against me and whisper sexy—but obnoxious—things in my ear, and already I’m dripping for him. What th
e hell is going on??

  I feel a slow caress on my arm and open my eyes. He’s running his fingers up my skin, and I can’t help but shiver. His smirk grows even wider at that. He thinks he’s got me.

  “Come on. Take me for a ride. You know you want to, TP.”

  It’s the nickname that snaps me out of whatever spell he’s put me under. The stupid, insulting nickname that the cheerleaders came up with to make fun of me. That’s all he thinks of me. He thinks I’m the school loser who should be grateful for even just the smallest bit of attention from the star quarterback. I’m suddenly back in reality and back to myself.

  I push him away as hard as I can. He doesn’t expect it and stumbles backwards.

  “What the hell, TP?”

  “Get bent, Mason. I would never sleep with someone like you, even if you were the last man on earth. I hate everything you are and everything you represent. I hate you.”

  I can’t stand to be here a second longer. Screw my stupid babysitting job, I’m out of here.

  I storm out of the ballroom and down the hall. People look at me as I pass, but I don’t care. I’m so pissed off that I’m sure I look crazy.

  I’m more angry with myself than anything else. Mace was just being Mace, but I fell for it—even if it was just for a second, it was a second too long. I thought I was immune to his player charm. I thought I was too smart to fall for his bullshit, but I guess I’m just like all the other girls at school. And that upsets me more than I thought possible. I feel so stupid.

  I burst out into the cool night air. The fleet of SUVs are parked in front of the building, waiting to take everyone back to the house. I rush over to one of them and hop in the unlocked backseat. The driver turns around in surprise.

  “Could you please take me back to the school?” I ask.

  “Of course, miss,” he says.

  He puts down his newspaper and starts the car. I breathe out a sigh of relief as we pull away from the curb. I relax back into the smooth leather. I feel the comforting vibrations of the vehicle beneath me and let them calm me down.

  He pulls a U-turn, and I happen to look back at the town hall. Light is pouring out the door, silhouetting a tall man standing there watching us drive away. I know it’s Mace watching me leave.

  10

  Mace

  I watch her car pull away and drive off down the street.

  What the hell just happened in there? I came on to her and she turned me down? That never happens. This bet is going to be harder than I thought—but for a completely different reason. I thought it was going to be hard trying to force myself to want her, but now I realize it’s going to be hard because she doesn’t want me. How insane is that?

  Getting her into bed should have been a piece of cake. I figured a social reject like her would feel lucky to get the attention of someone like me—no matter how much she tried to pretend she was above all that. I thought the biggest problem I was going to have would be getting hard enough to fuck her because she’s not the kind of girl I normally go for.

  Her personality is so abrasive it blinds you to her looks so I never realized she was hot, but tonight when I saw her in that tight dress I finally realized she has a killer body. She has large tits and curvy hips that I would give my left nut to explore. I was just trying to tease her by pressing her into the wall. Girls love that shit. But once I got close and could smell her scent and feel the heat of her body, I was harder than I’ve ever been in my life. What the hell is going on?

  I adjust my pants because I’m now rock-hard again just from thinking about her. I look out at the dark and deserted streets of the small mountain town. The only sounds are coming from inside the building behind me as music spills out the open door.

  I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn around to see one of the rich old losers who have been talking to me the entire night. They all look the same after a while, and I have no clue if I’ve already talked to this guy or not.

  “Mr. Law, I’m so glad I got you alone for a moment. I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’ve watched any game tapes from previous seasons at other colleges? There’s a game I think you’d find most interesting, and I just happen to be the receiver—”

  “Get bent,” I growl.

  His mouth drops open in surprise, and I can smell the champagne on his breath. The guy is small. I can’t believe any college would let him play—no matter how useless their team was.

  I jerk my shoulder out of his hand and walk down the steps to get away from him.

  And how could she hate me? Anyone could see why I’d hate her. She’s judgmental, high-strung, rude, a kiss-ass, but what the hell did I ever do to her? She’s always had a problem with me from the first moment we met—for no reason.

  She just wants to feel like she’s better than someone, and I happen to be a very impressive someone. I have money, popularity, and fame, while all she has is a couple of “A’s” in some boring courses no one cares about and a few loser friends. Actually, no wonder she hates me. I’m killing it at life, while she’s stuck watching from the bleachers. She’s jealous.

  I’m glad she left. Cock tease.

  I look back, and the guy is gone. I guess I’ll head inside and hang out with my boys. I could use a drink or two—or twelve—after this massive mindfuck of a night.

  As I turn to go back, I hear a car coming down the empty street. Something tells me not to go inside just yet, so I stand and watch it come closer.

  I quickly realize it’s probably going to be just another rich geezer who will want me to watch their game tape of when they were a receiver in the 1920s, so I hustle back up the stairs. I hear the car pull to a stop behind me and the door open.

  “Mason Law,” a woman says, and it’s not a question.

  I turn around and see a smoking hot woman in her late twenties/early thirties sitting in the backseat. I can see her long legs through the open door.

  “I need to speak with you. Come here,” she says.

  Her long brown hair shines in the streetlights, and the way her gray eyes are narrowed on me reminds me of a cunning fox. I’m not against getting in a hot girl’s car, so I walk over.

  She watches me with a slight smile as I approach and then shifts over in the seat to let me get in.

  “Shut the door,” she tells me.

  I do what she says, then she tells the driver to circle the block. It’s only after we’ve pulled away from the town hall that I realize it was pretty stupid of me to get into the backseat of a car with a stranger just because that stranger is a hot girl. But it’s just me, her and her driver so I don’t feel too worried about it. She’s probably a fan and just wants to pick up the quarterback for a night. And I’m definitely game. I’ll fulfill your football stud fantasy, you sexy thing. After getting turned down by that insufferable—and suddenly hot—loser earlier, I could use a good lay.

  “What’s your name, gorgeous?” I ask.

  “Delilah.”

  “And what is a beautiful thing like you doing here all alone?”

  I give her my patented winning smile. It doesn’t really matter what you say to chicks as long as you say it in a sexy way, kind of low and rumbly. And you also give them bedroom eyes like you want to fuck their brains out right at that moment, and then they’ll be putty in your hands.

  “The Organization sent me,” she says, and I jerk back.

  I suddenly feel very sober. I straighten up in my seat and eye her warily. This ride just got way less fun and a hell of a lot more serious.

  “They are calling in their favor now,” she says.

  My blood runs cold.

  “I don’t believe I have to remind you about the deal you made with the Organization in regards to your spot on the Winterford football team, do I?” she asks.

  Her voice is calm, like she does this all the time, but I don’t, and I feel anything but calm. My only interaction with the Org was when I went to their office building in Manhattan almost two years ago and paid for my f
uture with a favor.

  “What’s the favor?” I can’t stop my voice from trembling slightly. “Do I even want to know?”

  Once you owe the Org a favor, they can ask for anything they want. And I mean anything. I’ve heard about people who’ve purposely had to lose court cases against themselves and gone to jail for years. I’ve heard of people who’ve had to disown their entire families. I’ve even heard of someone who had to commit murder. However, those are all just rumors, so I don’t know if any of them are actually true. When the Org calls in a favor, you don’t tend to talk about it.

  I’m dreading the next words out of her mouth. I knew this was a possibility when I signed that agreement in a swanky office building on Fifth Avenue, but I never really thought this day would come. Most people never have to repay their favors. The favors are just a form of insurance for the Org in case they need to protect themselves, or one of their clients, because they only make deals with people they feel could have something to offer them in the future, people with money and power.

  My heart is pounding in my chest, and my mouth feels like the Sahara desert. I’m dreading the next words out of her pretty lips because she’s going to tell me I have to kill someone, or give up everything and move to Southeast Asia for the rest of my life, or something.

  I brace myself when she opens her mouth and—

  “We need you to get Sadie Edwards to drop out of sch—” she starts.

  “What?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Permanently,” she says in annoyance at being interrupted. “Once she drops out of Winterford University, she can not return to any school.”

  “That’s it?” I ask in complete shock.

  She nods.

  “Shit, that’s easy.”

  I thought I was going to have to murder someone, so getting some stuck-up chick to drop out of school is going to be a piece of cake. I’m getting off easy.