Free Bedding the Bad Boy (Bad Boys of Football Book 1) by Clementine Roux, Penelope Silva Page A

number.
    “Where have you been?” Isla sounded angry.
    “Thinking about you and your sexy ass, of course. Where else would I be? I mean, have you seen your ass?” I teased.
    “You’re an idiot. Stop whatever or whoever you’re doing and meet me at the courthouse. It’s important,” she demanded.
    “Why? Do you have a justice of the peace waiting to marry us? Damn, you move fast,” I teased her some more because it was so much fun. She made it easy for me.
    She groaned, but not in the manner I wished I could have heard her moan at this hour of the morning. “Stop it, pompous prick! If you want me to save your ass, you better get down to the courthouse right away. And, I shouldn’t have to say this, but because I am dealing with a narcissistic jerk, I’ll say it. Absolutely no fanfare. No drama and zero attitude when you get here.
    Wow, she was serious! I knew when enough was enough. I wasn’t a total jerk all the time.
    “I’ll be right there.” I hung up and raced to change into something courthouse appropriate, completely forgetting about my urgent meeting with Cassandra.
    Frank waited patiently for me while I got ready.
    “You know what; I think I’ll drive myself this morning. I haven’t driven since,” I paused, stifling a chuckle. “Well, since the night.”
    He understood what night I was referring to. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”
    “No, but since when did I do anything you’d consider good for me?” I winked at him and went in search of the keys to one of my other cars. 
    As I drove into the city, fighting the traffic, my mind wandered to Isla and her knee-jerk reaction to my proposal. I wondered why? Most women would kill for the chance to have my seed. Why did she act like she wasn’t one of them? Everything about her was different and it both annoyed me and turned me on. I wasn’t used to women turning me down and acting like I wasn’t the best football player in the country. I mean, all the magazines and experts talked about was how I was beating records all the time. Why wasn’t Isla impressed? Everyone else was.
    When I finally arrived at the courthouse, I instantly regretted not having Frank drive me or not inviting my security team to tag along. Press lined the streets for blocks. I was a spectacle and I hadn’t even parked the car yet. If they’d get out of my way, I’d have a better chance of parking this car, but as usual, a photo of me was worth far more than their lives to them.
    “Get out of the way,” I grumbled under my breath. For the cameras, I smiled and winked like this was another day in the life. Sometimes I hated my job. Sometimes when life got chaotic, like it was now, I wanted to pack it all up and go home, back to the place where I’d become a superstar.
    With cameras flashing like lightening in a brutal storm and reporters fielding question after question at me, I could barely hear myself think. Pushing through them was like pushing through a line of four hundred pound linebackers.
    Finally, law enforcement figured out it was in their best interest to corral the media and usher me in. “Out of the way! Out of the way!” Officers pushed their way through the throng of reporters and eager fans to make a path for me to enter the downtown courthouse.
    “Go ahead, sport,” an officer said, offering a toothy smile.
    “Thanks, man,” I said, as I yanked my arm out of the death grip a female reporter with sex in her eyes had on it.
    The police and courthouse security managed to keep reporters out of the building while someone from my legal team escorted me through the building and into a conference room, where Isla stood, bent over a pile of paperwork, biting her lip as she concentrated. Even stressed and nervous, she was more beautiful than any woman I’d ever met. How did she pull it off without even trying? She wasn’t covered in makeup and didn’t look like she tried too hard; she looked this good naturally, like a real woman should.