Dirty Boy by Nichole Rose

 

Chapter Two

Dante

 

"Are you having dinner with us tonight, dear?" Aunt Nancy—Nan for short—asks as she bustles by, grocery bags in hand.

"Yeah. I'll be here," I say, hopping up to take the bags from her.

She fusses at me like always, but I take them anyway. Nan is in her late sixties. Mom would kick my ass if I didn't carry her bags for her. My dad died not long after my little sister was born, making me the man in the family. Mom raised me to be respectful of women and to watch out for our family. Nan is part of that family. She's my father's favorite aunt.

"He met a girl," Chelsea says, giggling.

"Brat," I say, flicking a puzzle piece across the kitchen table at her, which makes her giggle again. Her blue eyes sparkle with happiness. I like seeing it, even if it is at my expense.

Chelsea isn't like most sixteen-year-olds. She was born with spina bifida and has been confined to a wheelchair her entire life. It's been hard on her, especially the last few years. Chelsea is smart, but she has developmental delays, so she seems a lot younger. She desperately wants to be a normal girl, but everyone else sees her differently. They treat her differently.

She hates it.

Coming to visit Nan every summer is good for her, especially now that our older sister, Gia, is married and having kids of her own. Chelsea and Nan spend the whole time shopping and doing all the girly shit she used to do with Gia. It keeps her occupied and makes her feel a little bit more like a normal sixteen-year-old. I know it makes Gia feel better about not being able to spend the summer with her like they used to do.

Even though I'm twenty-two, I make a point to spend at least a few weeks of the summer here with Chelsea before training camp. It makes her happy, and it gives me the opportunity to check in and make sure shit isn't falling apart on Nan. She's a stubborn old bird who refuses to ask for help.

"Oh, a girl," Nan says, smiling ear to ear as I place her bags on the kitchen counter.

"He hit her car, Nan," Chelsea says. "And almost ran over a dog."

"Snitch," I say, narrowing my eyes on my sister.

She giggles again and sticks her tongue out at me.

"Good grief, Dante!" Nan says, planting her hands on her narrow hips to glare at me.

"It's not as big a deal as it sounds," I mutter.

Nan isn't buying my shit. She knows me too well.

"Spill it, Dante Daniel Duncan," she demands, exactly like my mom. I swear to God, women go to school to learn that no-bullshit look. I'd rather face Coach after taking an L than face the women in my family when they're wearing that look.

"I swerved to avoid a dog and hit her car," I say, unloading groceries from the bags.

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No."

"Your truck?"

"Minimal damage."

"And her car?"

"Not so minimal," I mutter. "But I'm taking care of it."

"Good boy," she says, patting me on the shoulder before she bustles past me to the China cabinet, looking for the aprons hooked on the side of it.

I shake my head, smiling. Nan never changes. She still calls me a good boy like I'm eleven again, picking fights with the bully who used to pull Chelsea's hair. She's crazy, but I love the shit out of her anyway.

I finish putting the groceries away while she and Chelsea chatter back and forth about their plans for tomorrow. I try to follow the conversation, but my mind keeps running back to Ella. Chelsea and I have been working on the same puzzle all damn day because I can't get the adorably cranky brunette out of my head.

I damn near had a heart attack when I saw her today…and that was before I hit her car. I was too busy staring at her round ass sticking out of the car to notice the Chihuahua playing in the mud puddle until it was too late.

Ella's ass is what caught my attention, but the rest of her is what held it. With unruly brown hair and wide hazel eyes, she's beautiful. Her ample curves give her the perfect hourglass shape. I want to sink my hands into her wide hips just to see how they fit my palms. Her round cheeks were flushed from the heat and strands of her hair were plastered to her head, but it didn't detract from her beauty at all. In fact, she looked fucking edible, especially when she was glaring at me with her little chin thrust stubbornly into the air.

I felt like an asshole for hitting her car, and an even bigger one for asking her if she stole it. I don't know where the question came from. It was the first thing that popped into my head when she lied to me. People say I'm rude. I usually don't give a fuck about them though. All I care about is football and my family. The rest is just background noise.

I care what Ella thinks. I'm also worried as fuck about her. She lied to me about not having insurance because she didn't want me to call the police. I knew that was the reason as soon as the lie left her lips. I could see the panic in her eyes. She's in trouble, running from something.

That should be all the information I need to stay away. I may be the best defensive tackle Vanderbilt has, but Coach will absolutely bench my ass if I get mixed up in any bullshit. I can't afford that right now, especially not when scouts are watching me.

Getting into the NFL next year will all but guarantee that my mom and Chelsea are taken care of for the rest of their lives. Gia has Bryant and their kids now, but Chelsea is a different story. Because of her condition, she'll always need extra help. Our mom worked her ass off to ensure we all had the best life possible after our father died. Building a nest egg for her and Chelsea wasn't ever an option.

The NFL will ensure I'm able to make sure they're comfortable for the rest of their lives. Chelsea will have the best medical care money can buy, and my mom will be able to enjoy her life instead of working herself to death to pay Chelsea's medical bills. They'll never want for anything again.

I can't do anything to jeopardize that.

I know in my bones that Ella isn't a threat to my future though. In fact, I'm positive she's supposed to be a big part of it. I felt that truth as soon as I touched her today. It's crazy, but it's true. As soon as I put my hands on her, I knew she was supposed to be mine.

I just have to convince her to see it too.

Fixing her car is step one.

Milo owes me a favor, and he owns an autobody shop. When I told him what I needed, he didn't hesitate to agree. He's good people. He'll take care of Ella's car without charging me an arm and a leg for it, or adding a bunch of unnecessary bullshit to the tab. Since he'll have the car a few days, she'll have to let me drive her around town.

That's step two.

I haven't worked out the other fifty steps yet, but the grand plan ends with her wearing my ring. So whatever gets us there works for me. This time next month, I'm due on campus. I have less than a month to win my girl…and I'm not off to a great start.

"Are you good here, Nan?" I ask, shoving the bag of flour into the pantry. I ball up the grocery bags and shove them into the bag-saver hanging on a hook inside the pantry.

"Mmhmm," she says, already pulling out half the shit I just put away. Nan loves to cook. Before she retired, she owned a restaurant not far from here. It was one of the best in the entire state of Georgia.

I watch her and Chelsea for a minute and then duck out of the kitchen. Even though it's still fucking hot outside, I slip out onto the back patio. Nan lives right on the beach. And unlike most of the public beaches, this one isn't crowded with people. Even at the height of tourist season, it's empty of everyone except residents. Soft white sand and blue water stretch as far as the eye can see.

I'm going to miss the fuck out of spending time down here if I'm drafted next year. Tybee has become a second home to me over the years. I've spent so much time exploring the island, the locals feel like family to me.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Ella's number.

"Unless you're calling to tell me I won the lottery, I can't afford whatever you're selling," she says as soon as she answers the phone. "And if you're calling to scam me, I can't afford that either. Also, my car is ancient and wrecked, so I don't need an extended warranty."

"What do you need, Ella Morgan?" I ask, smiling ear to ear. She's adorable without even trying. I almost wish I were a telemarketer or a scammer, just to hear what she'd say to them. I have a feeling it'd be slightly grumpy but also really fucking cute at the same time.

"Oh. Um, hi," she mumbles.

I can practically see her cheeks heating. My grip on the phone tightens, my dick twitching at the thought of her blushing. Because I play football, women have been trying to throw themselves at me since I was in high school. I was never interested though. Not until now. Until Ella. And I'm not just interested in her. I'm completely hooked. She'll be the first and only woman to share my bed and, more importantly, my life. I can't wait.

"What do you need?" I ask her again, genuinely curious what she'll say.

"Right now?"

"Sure."

"A job," she huffs. "Do you happen to have one of those lying around?"

"Your interview didn't go well?"

"He wasn't hiring."

"What do you want to do?"

"Eat chocolate without getting fat, lay on the beach, and read dirty books," she says without missing a beat. "Know anyone hiring for that particular job?"

"No," I say, laughing loudly. "But how do you feel about swimming?"

"I was a lifeguard one summer."

"Where?"

"Um, at a local pool back home," she says, her hesitation clear as bells.

"Where's home, Ella?" I ask, wanting her to tell me all her secrets. Whatever they are, I can't imagine they're all that bad. There's something so artless about her. I'd bet my life she isn't running because she did something wrong.

"Central Georgia," she says after a long pause.

It's not exactly what I wanted, but it's close enough. I smile, happy as hell she gave me anything. I honestly wasn't sure she would. And I love knowing that she grew up close to me. "Do you know where the first lifeguard tower is on North Beach?" I ask instead of pressing for more.

"Um, I think so. Why?"

"Meet me there at eight in the morning."

"What? Why?"

"You have to show up to find out," I say, teasing her.

"What if I don't?"

"Then you'll never know."

"Are you trying to extort me?" she asks, her tone rife with suspicion.

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"Maybe," she mutters.

I grin ear to ear this time. "See you in the morning, sweet Ella."

"Bye, Dante," she whispers.

 

 

"Fuck me," I growl, gritting my teeth as Ella walks across the sand toward me, dressed in a tiny pair of shorts that show off her long legs and a t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. She looks entirely too damn beautiful.

"Is that her?" Tyson Flynn asks from beside me, narrowing his eyes on her.

"Stop looking at her," I growl, stepping in front of him to block his line of sight.

He laughs quietly, the fucker. "You realize everyone on the goddamn beach is going to be looking at her if I hire her as a lifeguard, right? And she'll be wearing less than she's got on right now."

Well…fuck. Maybe I didn't think this through well enough because he's right. If he hires her, she'll be in a bathing suit six hours a day, on a public beach where men are allowed to roam about freely.

"Why, exactly, did women stop wearing dresses to swim?" I growl.

"Uh, because it was bullshit?" Tyson asks.

Right.

Fuck. Coach is going to kick my ass when I end up in jail for hitting some motherfucker for staring too hard at Ella. I can already see it.

"You got about forty-five seconds to decide if I'm interviewing her or not," Tyson warns me.

I hesitate for ten of those seconds before cursing.

"Interview her," I say, giving in to the inevitable. She needs a job, and I won't take that away from her. I'll just have to adjust my summer plans to involve sitting on the beach every second she's on it. Chelsea will understand. Desperate times and all.

Tyson laughs again.

"Hey," Ella says approximately twenty seconds later, coming to a stop at the bottom step of the lifeguard tower. She lifts her arm, putting it across her forehead to squint up at me. The early morning sun lights her hair up like a halo. Gold and red tones mix with the mink brown.

"Morning," I grumble, still pissed that she'll be half naked on a beach in front of men.

She blinks at my tone, her little chin thrusting up into the air. Her gaze moves from me to Tyson, and I immediately want it back on me. Women go crazy over him, and it's not just because he's a lifeguard. He's tall and lean, with golden brown skin and an easy smile. Unfortunately for the women who come here, he's also happily married.

"Ella Morgan?" he asks, extending a hand toward her.

I briefly consider bumping him out of the way so he can't touch her, and then decide that would probably be a dick move, so I don't do it.

Ella places her hand in his.

"I'm Tyson Flynn," he says, shaking her hand before he releases her. "Dante says you used to be a lifeguard."

"Yes. Though it wasn't at a beach." Ella glances between me and Tyson with her brows furrowed. "What's this about?"

"He needs another lifeguard," I murmur to her.

"You do?" She looks to Tyson for confirmation. Even though she tries to hide it, I see the hope in her hazel eyes. I see the shadows around them too. She didn't sleep well last night.

"I do," Tyson says. "We need a lifeguard at Savannah River Beach. You ever been out there?"

Ella shakes her head.

"The waters are calmer and it's not as crowded," Tyson says. "Not a lot goes on over there. We don't usually have a lifeguard stationed out there, but people keep leaving their shit all over the place, so we figured we should get someone out there to keep an eye on everyone. You'll mainly be ensuring people aren't throwing shit into the water or leaving trash on the beach."

"I can do that," she says, the hope in her eyes growing. "Um, I should warn you that I'm only here for about six weeks. I start college in the fall."

"Yeah? Where you going?" Tyson asks.

"Nowhere big." Her gaze darts in my direction and then quickly away. "What are the hours?"

"Ten to three. You'll have every Wednesday and Thursday off," Tyson says, leaning against the tower. "Can you be here this afternoon for a swim test?"

"Yes."

Tyson eyes her for a minute and then smiles, flashing his dimple at her. "I'll meet you here at three. Bring your driver's license and social security card with you."

"I will. Um, thank you, Mr. Flynn," she whispers.

"Call me Tyson, Ella."

"Tyson," she repeats, giving him a tiny smile.

Tyson smacks me on the back and then lifts his chin in a nod before ducking back inside the tower, leaving me alone with my girl.

"Come on," I say, jumping down to the sand beside her and holding out a hand.

She hesitates for a split second before slipping hers into mine.

"You got me a job," she says.

"I got you an interview," I correct. Tyson won't put her in the water if she can't pass his swim test. It wouldn't be safe for her or anyone else. Savannah Beach may be calm, but even still water runs deep, and it doesn't take much to sink a weak swimmer, especially one panicking. If Ella gets the job, it'll be because she earned it.

"Thank you." She peeks up at me. "Truly, Dante. I'm not sure how to repay you."

"I have an idea."

She cocks her head to the side. "You want out of fixing my car?"

"Fuck no," I growl, not liking how relieved she looks at the thought. "I'm fixing your car, Ella."

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine. But if you don't want out of fixing my car, what do you want?" she asks, as if she can't possibly think what else I might want other than to be let off the hook for fucking up her car yesterday. Her obliviousness is as cute as it is infuriating.

"Go out with me tonight and we'll call it even."

Her eyes widen. "I…can't do that."

"You can."

"I can't," she says, narrowing her eyes on me.

"Why not?"

"Because…" I can practically see her mind spinning as she tries to think up a good reason. "Because I won't be here for long," she finally says, almost triumphantly. "Why start something that will just have to end in a few weeks?"

"Who says it will have to end?" I ask, sliding my hand up her arm.

"Me. I say that. I definitely say that," she says, babbling as I inch my hand up higher. "I have college to think about and a scholarship and um, you probably have stuff too. So it's a bad idea."

"Ella."

"Dante."

I chuckle, brushing my hand over her shoulder. Her skin is so soft. I can't wait to feel it sliding against mine when she's naked in my arms, whining for me to fuck her. And she will be doing that soon, make no mistake about it. This girl is mine.

"They invented telephones and cars and webcams and the internet for a reason," I say, cupping the side of her neck. She resists me for a split second before turning to face me. My dick throbs when I see the desire in her eyes.

"Bad reasons," she mumbles. "Bad, bad reasons."

I nearly groan as a few bad, bad reasons immediately pop into mind. Her naked on a webcam, touching her pussy and moaning my name. Her riding me in the back of my truck. The hitch in her breath when she's getting herself off while I listen on the phone.

I've never been in a relationship before, let alone a long-distance relationship. But there's no fucking way I'm giving her up at the end of the summer, so we'll just have to figure it out.

"One date," I say, rubbing my thumb along her jaw. "Just let me take you out one time."

For a second, I think she's going to agree. She's right on the verge of opening her mouth to say yes. And then a volleyball flies by, narrowly missing us. She jerks backward, blinking those long, sooty lashes.

"No, Dante," she says, shaking her head. "I appreciate the offer, but no."

It's official. I'm killing whoever threw that fucking volleyball.