The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel

I’d explained the rotational gym program I belonged to. He stopped on the sidewalk before I could answer. “It’s not that Zumba crap, is it?”

“No, it’s not Zumba day. But Zumba isn’t crap. It’s actually hard work. I leave there soaked—that means it was a good workout.”

He returned to walking. “You were soaked this morning, and considering I had you pinned to the wall and did all the work, I don’t think you got such good exercise.”

“You’re a pig, you know that?”

Brody dropped my hand and grabbed a handful of my ass right there on the street. “What’s that say about you? You got it bad for a pig.”

I rolled my eyes. But he was totally right. I had it bad.

A block away from the gym, Brody pointed across the street. “That’s where Marlene lives. Broadhollow Manor.”

I’d walked past the building before. From the outside, it looked more like a ritzy apartment complex than the terrible visual that came to mind when the words nursing home were spoken. “That looks more like luxury condos than a nursing home.”

“It’s a nice place. They keep it clean, and everyone is well taken care of. You should see some of the dumps that I went to see before finding Broadhollow. The places that the state will pay for are one step up from a shelter. I could have bought a luxury condo for cheaper than what the last few years cost me. But it’s worth it. I’d never be able to sleep at night knowing she was in a hole in the wall, and I had bank just sitting around.”

Even though this morning he had cooked me breakfast naked after delivering a delicious orgasm up against the bedroom wall, that last statement made me fall a little harder for the man. My pig.

Arriving at the gym, he opened the door for me to enter first. Before passing through, I stopped, stretched up on my toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“For being you.”

He walked in behind me and swatted my ass as he whispered in my ear. “My girl likes dirty pigs.”

The woman at the reception desk was on her cell phone as I signed in. When she hung up, I asked her about a guest pass. She didn’t bother to look up from her phone.

“My membership has a few guest passes. I don’t have one with me today. I was hoping it would be okay, and you could just look up that I haven’t used any yet.”

She huffed in annoyance, her attention having to be refocused from her cell to the computer that was actually part of her job. “Name?”

“Delilah Maddox.”

Her nails clicked away. “Guest name?”

“Um. Brody.”

She halted her clacking. “Last name?”

“Easton.”

Well, that got her attention. Her head whipped up. “You’re . . . ”

“Delilah’s guest.” Brody filled in the blank when she trailed off.

“Oh my God. You’re really Brody Easton. I love you! I’m a huge Steel fan.”

“Thank you.”

She propped both elbows on the counter, cupping her smiling face in her hands. Forget whiplash, this woman had bitchlash; she’d gone from bitch to entranced so fast.

“So what brings you here to our little gym?”

“Exercise,” Brody responded flatly.

She giggled like he’d just said the funniest thing. “This class won’t be exercise to someone like you.”

My response was snippy because . . . well . . . because she was a bitch who had just insulted my exercise, the place she worked and . . . she was busy ogling my boyfriend. “That’s okay. He exercised at home this morning. Wall lunges.”

She nodded. “Interesting. Never tried those. Maybe you can show me how later?”

I plastered on a fake smile. “I don’t think so. But could we get that guest pass?”

“Oh. Okay. Sure. No problem.” She motioned to the entrance behind the desk. “Go right ahead. This one’s on me. He doesn’t need a pass.”

The class was nearly full when we got there, so we took a spot in the back, dropping our gym bags next to us to claim real estate.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Were too.”

“I’m not the jealous type.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I am not.”

“Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

“You want to bet that you can make me jealous?”

“Yep.”

I extended my hand. “You’re on. Loser gives the other a massage.”

Brody shook my hand and winked. “Okay. But you won’t be massaging my back.”

“Whatever. But this contest goes both ways.”

Brody looked around the room. It was almost entirely filled with women. “You’re going to flirt with some of the women in here? I’m pretty sure this is the best contest I will ever win, and we haven’t even started to play yet.”

The bitchy woman from the front desk came in. “Alex is running five minutes late. So why don’t we get you warmed up? Anyone want to volunteer to help me stretch out the class up front?”

Vi Keeland's books