Player Loves Curves Box Set #4-6 by Hope Ford
Hanna
It’sthe third night in a row that he’s been here. He sits at the bar and watches me from a distance, but I can feel his eyes on me always. He stays until my last dance and stays there until after I leave. I don’t know what he does once I’m gone, but when I’m there, he doesn’t talk to anyone. And I’ve noticed. I may have to look around the room at the other men, but my gaze always goes back to him. When any of the other dancers are on their break, they are seeking him out. Is it because he’s handsome or because they know he’s a professional baseball player? I don’t know, but I do know he turns them all down. He barely even talks to them, usually just a nod of his head, dismissing them.
I’m on my third and final set of the night, and I make a point to work the other side of the room, away from the bar and Carter. I’ve gotten good at shaking my body but doing it in a way that puts a wall up to let the guys know not to touch me. I have to admit, there’s something about this, something about knowing Carter is sitting there watching me that makes my lower belly tug and burn. I glance at the bar, and he’s gone. I lose attention for a brief moment, and it is one second too long. Someone’s arms loop around my waist and pull me onto their lap. I struggle to get up, but the man’s arms just tighten around me.
I look at the door for Tiny, but he’s not looking this way. I stomp my heel on the man’s foot and he releases me as I fall forward, right into Carter’s arms. When I look into his eyes, I see the look of a homicidal man. He doesn’t hesitate; he picks me up and sets me behind him before turning to the man that grabbed me and knocking him out cold, flat on his back.
I pull on Carter’s arm as Troy comes running toward us. He stops in front of Carter. “Get him out of here, Hanna. I can’t have trouble like this here.”
I pull on his arm, taking him through the back, grabbing my purse. I take him outside, pulling him the whole way. He’s seething mad, but I don’t stop until we’re outside of the bar.
“Where’s your car?”
“I don’t drink and drive. I took an Uber,” he says, gritting his teeth.
I shake my head at him. I don’t remember seeing him with a beer. “Have you been drinking?’
“No, I haven’t had anything.” He looks surprised as he says it.
I shrug and start walking toward my car. I unlock the door. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”
* * *
Carter
Hanna stops next to an old,beat-up white Taurus with rust on the hood. I open the door and bend my big frame to fit into the seat. I look at her, trying to figure her out. Her family had money, and I don’t understand what she’s doing working at a strip club. It physically pains me to see her up there, dancing for all those men. But I don’t have a say in what she does. I don’t have that right anymore. She made sure of that.
“Where to?”
I give her directions and we’re both quiet on the way. I keep telling myself to leave it alone, but I can’t. I have to know. When we pull on to my street and she parks in my driveway, I look up at my house. It’s only a rental, but it’s in a nice neighborhood, and it’s a nice house. She sits with the car running and I reach over, turning off the ignition.
“We need to talk.”
She smirks and does a little snort. “Now you want to talk. I tried to call you so many times when you left. You blocked me. Your family wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I tried to talk to you so many times. So don’t get upset if I really don’t feel like talking right now.”
I could throw it in her face, exactly what she did to me, but I don’t. Instead, I tell her, “Well, I’m here now. You have my full attention. Talk. What are you doing working at a strip club? Why are you driving this piece of shit?”
She opens her mouth and closes it again. I wait, but not patiently. I need answers. I deserve answers.
She looks at me for the longest time. “You’re not the same man I remember, Carter. The sweet boy that walked me to classes. The boy that wouldn’t take my virginity until I practically begged you. The sweet boy that held doors for me, didn’t drink or swear or disrespect women.”
I’m about to deny it, but I don’t. I’m sure she’s seen the news. I’m sure she knows I’m benched right now. I’m sure she knows what an ass I’ve been; it’s all over the tabloids. The bad boy of baseball.
She takes a deep breath. “There’s so many things I need to tell you, things I regret and I wish I’d done differently. But I can’t.”
Frustrated, I tell her, “Fine, you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But answer me this. Your family has money. Why are you doing this?”
She looks at me, and her eyes pool with tears. My first instinct is to reach out for her, but I stop myself. Her voice is husky and filled with emotion. “My family disowned me.”
I gasp, because of all the things I imagined, I would never have thought that. “What? Why?”
But before she can answer me, an alarm goes off on her phone. She turns it off and tells me hurriedly, “I have to go, Carter. I have to get home.”
She almost looks frantic, and then she looks at me with pleading eyes and says, “Please, I really have to go.”
I jut my chin at her, not wanting to ask, but knowing I have to. “Why? Do you have a man you have to go home to?”
“What? No!”
I don’t take time to think about how her answer makes me feel. I get out of the car and I’ve barely shut the door before she’s backing out of the driveway and spinning her tires as she drives down the road.
