While BJ and I are sitting at my table eating breakfast, Vance walks in and stops short when he takes in the scene before him. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. BJ sits at the damn table with you?”
I shrug like it’s totally normal for a hundred-pound dog to be sitting like a human in a chair at my kitchen table. “Where else would she eat?”
“On the fucking floor, like every other dog in the world.”
I gasp. “That’s uncivilized.”
He briefly closes his eyes. “You’reuncivilized. I can’t believe you won’t let women even step foot in your house but you let your dog eat at the table.”
I sigh. “I don’t let women in because BJ hates them and attacks them…and I don’t like for them to know where I live.”
I used to bring women home. BJ flipped her shit. I don’t think she likes the prospect of me having another woman in my life, taking my attention away from her, though she does love Jagger. Maybe BJ smells the gold-digger in all of them. BJ went so far as to bite one of them, which is when I put her in training. Even female delivery women set her off. And several of the women I used to bring home kept showing up after I had clearly blown them off. It’s easier to go to their places and for them not to know where I live.
Honestly, I sleep around a lot. I suppose when the time comes that I’m serious with a woman, I’ll have to reconsider my ways, but as of now, I’m having fun and have no plans to settle down. Would I love to be a father? Yes. Am I ready to be devoted to one woman? No. The former will have to wait until I am.
Vance makes himself a plate of French toast and bacon, as he often does. I love that my best friend feels comfortable enough to walk into my house and take food. He has the code to my front door, just as I do for his.
He sits down at the table and points his fork at BJ. “Keep your paws to yourself. This ismyfood, beast.”
“BJ would never steal your food.” I wink at BJ before commanding, “Still.” She knows that means to sit in her seat until she’s dismissed. I smile at my angel. “You’re such a good girl. You and Daddy will watchCobra Kaiin bed together tonight.”
She lets out a howl of joy while Vance rolls his eyes at my love for that show. Best. Show. Ever.
I cast a pointed look at Vance. “How are you managing?”
The Philly Beavers drafted Sulley O’Shea last night. Vance and Sulley grew up in the same small town. Vance was best friends with her older brother. He was killed in the line of duty, and there was a shitstorm that ensued afterward, causing a huge rift between Vance and Sulley’s family. He was freaking out during the draft when he realized she’d be moving to Philly. Our teammate Presley’s wife is now on the Beavers too, so Vance running into Sulley is inevitable. I don’t think he’s seen her in five years, and I know he’s internally flipping out over the entire situation.
He looks at me with pain written all over his face as he runs his fingers through his overgrown brown hair. “Honestly, I’m shitting bricks.”
I wince. “That sounds painful. I shit out an entire intact burrito once, and that was rough. Bricks sound even worse.”
He cracks a small smile. “You’re a dope.”
“I know. Speaking of giant shits, I’m gonna walk my girl while you finish breakfast. Then we can head to the gym.”
“Why do you need to walk her? You have a doggie door.”
I give him a look of disbelief. “It’s our special quality time every day. While the doggie door affords me a little freedom, my best girl still expects some QT with Daddy. It will be a short walk, I promise. Don’t worry, I already ate my celery while I was cooking.”
He rolls his eyes even though he knows my thoughts oneating a daily dose of celery, which Chef Benny always keeps on hand.
Vance raisesan eyebrow from the bench where he’s lifting a heavily weighted bar in our team gym. “Does that crap really work?” he asks.
I nod as I sit back in the leg press machine with a huge smirk on my face. “Every. Damn. Time.”
Coach Jeffries walks into the oversized gym. Coach is in his mid-to-late forties. He’s got dark, wavy hair and a beard. Both have a smattering of grey. He works out with us almost every day and can likely outlift half the guys on the team. He’s been my coach since my rookie year, and, despite his sometimes-weird personality, I love him like a second father.
He got divorced a few years ago. Even though he doesn’t lack the attention of women, I don’t think he indulges much. I’ve tried to push him on that front, but he’s reluctant for some unknown reason.
He has a daughter who plays professional basketball for a team out of New York City. In all the years he’s coached me, I’ve never once met her. I’ve heard they have a strained relationship, though he never talks about it. His son, Pierce, is seventeen. He’s a good kid who grew up hanging out in our locker room.
Coach immediately asks, “What works every damn time?”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Every first kiss with a woman. I break it up before they can and tell them it was a solid B+. They get so flustered and competitive that they beg for another chance to show me they’re an A. It’s always aggressive and turns into much more than kissing…if ya know what I mean.” I wink at him.
Coach narrows his eyes at me. “You know, Humblecut, I’vealways assumed the thing that would eventually break me is having to constantly enter my email address and password into my television via the remote control, but it might end up being your dating stories.”
I chuckle, but he shakes his head. “Women aren’t objects to toy with, Humblecut. You should be looking for the right woman, not the right-now woman. Don’t you believe in monogamy?”
