Free Dirty Baller: A Secret Baby Sports Romance by Vesper Vaughn

me,” I say, taking a break from dicing the peppers.
    She blushes. “I am not twirling for you.”
    “Do it, or I’m coming over there and making you do an entire fashion show for me.” I make my face as serious as I can.
    She sighs and spins and I get a front-row seat of her ass in tight denim.
    “That’s what I’m talking about,” I say with a laugh. “You’re a natural.”
    Hayley brings her purse over to the kitchen island. “I didn’t realize you cooked,” she says, sounding surprised. She slides out her laptop and the bong of the starting screen echoes around the kitchen.
    “My mum taught me,” I say. “She said it was important for a man to know how to cook.”
    “I like the sound of that,” Hayley says. Soon, she’s typing as fast as I’ve ever heard anyone type in their lives.
    “You’ll break a finger going that fast,” I quip, tossing the vegetables into the pan with the chicken. They sizzle as they hit the hot oil.
    “Hm?” Hayley asks absently.
    “Earth to Hayley!” I say. I walk around the island and she snaps her computer shut. “Looking at porn?”
    She smiles at me. “I don’t need porn with you around, do I?”
    I twirl the barstool and put my hands on the sides of her back. I squeeze her and she moans. I bend down and lock her tongue with mine.
    “We could try out the mattress,” I whisper.
    “Your chicken’s going to burn,” she protests as she sighs against my touch. My hand is already up her skirt. Her panties are wet already.
    “I don’t care,” I reply.
    She giggles. “I do. I’m starving!”
    I sigh and pull my hand out. “Food. Then fucking. Lots and lots of fucking.”
    “Sounds like a plan to me.”
    We eat out on the back patio, the cool summer breeze picking up as the sun sinks from the sky. “This reminds me of my childhood,” Hayley says, leaning back in her chair and wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin.
    “Definitely doesn’t remind me of mine,” I say. The mood shifts imperceptibly. “I was always a city person at heart.”
    Hayley looks at me intently. “I am too, I think. I like the people. The bustle of the big city. The way you can just-“
    “Disappear,” I finish for her.
    She smiles. “Exactly. You can just sort of float away into the crowds and not be seen if you don’t want to. Well. I mean, you can’t quite as easily.”
    “It gets easier avoiding the press if I stay away from trendy new restaurants with a sexy woman on my arm.” I grin at her. The wind rustles her red hair and I reach out to touch it. “I like that you don’t dye your hair. I’ve always had a thing for redheads.”
    Hayley waves a hand in the air. “No way. That’s not what I’ve read online.”
    “You’ve been studying up on me. I like that,” I say with a smile. “Tell me what you know.”
    “I know that the last three women you’ve been linked to have all been stick-thin supermodels with blonde hair. I know that you’ve been arrested on what us Americans call a DUI. I know that you like to punch people when you get angry instead of talking through your feelings.” She pauses, chewing the inside of her lip. “What I don’t know is why.”
    “Why what?” I stir the leftover ice cubes in my water glass with a straw. I think I know where this is going.
    “Why do you get angry and physical instead of opening up. I don’t know why you’re closed off all the time, even to me.”
    It’s my turn to chew the inside of my mouth. I jiggle my foot out of nervousness. “This all stays off the record.”
    A look of something indistinguishable flashes across her face. I can’t read it. Is it guilt? It’s gone before I can examine it any further.”
    “Of course,” Hayley says. “My story isn’t about you.”
    A butterfly lands on the rim of the candle holder before disappearing. I take a deep breath. “My biological father, and I call him that because he was nothing more than a sperm donor, was an asshole. He used to hit my mom. He’d hit me