Rough & Tumble Read online

  Rough &

  Tumble

  By Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Rough & Tumble

  Copyright © 2015 Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Published by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: Kristen Hope Mazzola 2015

  Cover Design: Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Cover Images:

  File ID: 77964488 © efks / Dollar Photo Club

  File ID: 71060921 © Andrei vishnyakov / Dollar Photo Club

  Formatting by: Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Editing by:

  C. Marie [email protected]

  Proof Reading by:

  Marla Hancock Wenger

  Dedication

  To anyone that believes in second chances, fairytales and real happily ever afters.

  Chapter 1.

  Holy.

  Mother fucking.

  Shit-balls-of-fire.

  How can this really be happening right now?

  I sat in front of my computer desk in my squeaky rolling chair on Monday morning, trembling as my chocolate Labrador looked up at me like I was the craziest person in the world, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered other than the news I’d just hung up the freaking phone from getting. It was a dream come true—my dream come true, and it was finally sinking in that it was a reality. That coming Sunday I would officially be one of the photographers for the North Carolina Hogs. I excitedly texted my best friend to share the good news.

  How did a girl like me, fresh out of college, land an NFL dream job right after graduating?

  I shrieked a little and Molly whimpered at me with her leash hanging from her mouth. It was way past her normal walk time and gosh darn it she was going to let me know, come hell or high water she needed to go outside and read her emails—at least that’s what Mom always called it.

  “All right…all right…” I muttered, shuffling into my sandals by the door of my row home as I clipped Molly’s leash onto her collar.

  It was weird living alone, boxes still packed up, lining the walls and taking up most of my floor space. It had been almost a month since graduation and growing up was in order. Being in the limbo between being an adult and not knowing what the hell being an adult actually meant was unnerving, but that morning I’d taken the biggest step into adulthood: my career was starting. I looked over to the empty living room before heading out the door and sighed; I still hadn’t found the right furniture to fill the large empty space in front of the old brick fireplace.

  All in due time.

  Molly dragged me down the steps and swiftly onto the dampened concrete of the sidewalk. She zigzagged and bobbed along, sniffing every blade of grass she could. The neighborhood was quiet; most of the people had already ventured off to work or school. Being a freelance photographer made my schedule wonky, to say the least. If it wasn’t for Molly keeping me somewhat on point with seeing daylight, I was sure I would have turned nocturnal by then.

  My cell vibrated with a text from my bestie, Brittainy.

  Brittainy: Holy moly! That is freaking incredible!

  Me: It doesn’t feel real. I feel like tomorrow morning I am going to wake up and it is all just going to be a dream.

  Brittainy: Get a grip, Peyton, this shit is really happening!

  Me: What if I suck?

  My biggest fear in the world was sucking so bad that my dream job would be thrown out the window before it really had a chance to take off. It was totally possible. Everyone has a sucky day every once in a while, or the weather could be shit and the lighting could be completely off, or the shots could turn out blurry.

  God, I am going to be sick!

  Brittainy: You don’t suck! You were the best in our class. Come on love, it’s going to be great.

  Me: Yeah, I hope you’re right.

  Brittainy: I’m always right. The big question is, how is it going to be shooting your hunky ex all day?

  Fuck. Bo.

  I hadn’t even thought about that. Bo Briggs and I had dated for part of high school and a good chunk of college. He was the quarterback and I was a cheerleader—so freaking cliché, it could make a Care Bear puke from its cuteness. But, when I’d decided to get more serious about photography and a real career, Bo and I just saw different life paths. I had dreams of traveling the world photographing ancient ruins, and he was definitely going to be drafted when he was done with college. He was my fucking great white buffalo and I was going to be working for his team.

  The rookie quarterback and the sports photographer…not as cliché.

  Me: Ugh. It will have to be fine. We’re both adults and professionals.

  Brittainy: Yeah, professionals that used to bang. He’s hot, you’re hot. This might be a rekindling in the making, sweets.

  Me: He’s engaged to that hotter-than-hell model.

  Brittainy: So what? You know that isn’t going to last!

  It’d lasted since five months after he and I had broken up. She was his arm candy trophy wife just like freaking Ryan Tannehill and his Barbie Doll look alike. Of course it was going to last. He and I were a thing of the past, and it needed to stay that way.

  Me: Let’s drop the Bo issue. Are we celebrating tonight or what?

  Brittainy: Heck yes we are. Meet at your place at eight?

  Me: See you then!

  My doorbell rang and Molly started crying and scratching at the door while I was putting on my mascara.

  “Coming.”

  I jogged to the front door and swung it open to see my best friend towering over me, all dolled up with her long red hair curled, knock out nude pumps, and a tight black skirt with a shimmery light blue top. With her six inch pumps, Brit was easily a foot taller than my five-foot-four frame. She could have been a model, but she loved being on the other side of the camera just as much as I did.

  “You look great, Brit!”

  We hugged and she knelt down to pet Molly, who was rolled over on her back, tail wagging a mile a minute.

  “Thanks girl, so do you!”

  I glanced over to the mirror to double check my outfit.

  Smoldering smoky eyes – check.

  Loose black barrel curls bouncing nicely – check.

  Tight off-white skirt ironed right – check.

  Black blouse tucked in and looking ok – check.

  Bombshell bra making me look like I have some kind of curves – check.

  Turquoise stilettos – check.

  Looking across my kitchen where Brittainy was leaned over to scratch Molly behind her ear, I envied her curvy, tall body. I was still the itty-bitty flyer that had cheered for my squad. I shrugged off my insecurities while putting on deep red matte lipstick.

  “So where are we going tonight?”

  Brittainy’s face lit up as her freckled cheeks got a little red. “I was thinking Vixens.”

&nbsp
; I rolled my eyes. “Of course you want to go to a strip club again.”

  “Oh come on, this one is new and classy. Besides, I haven’t gotten any in so long and you know that you have fun too.”

  When Brit and I first met, she claimed to be straight, then confessed she was bi about a semester and a half into us being random roommates freshman year, but lately she was leaning more and more toward just liking girls. I had no problem with it; to each their own. She never hit on me, except for that one time we ended up making out at a frat party, but that was mostly because we were lightly encouraged to by Bo and his friends.

  “Fine. We’ll go.”

  Brit hooked her arm around my neck and kissed me on my cheek. “Besides,”—she giggled, grabbing my clutch off the counter and handing it to me—“you have more of a chance of finding a dude to bang the memory of Bo out of your pretty little head at a strip club than I do of going home with one of the strippers.”

  “All right, fine, we’ll go to Vixens. It better be as nice as you say it is.”

  Brit’s eyes lit up as she led the way out of my front door. “I promise. We’ll have a good time!”

  It didn’t take long for us to get to the club, have drinks in hand, and be right up front at one of the stages. I had to hand it to Brittainy, she was right: Vixens was clean, classy, and seductive. The lighting was perfectly dim with purple and white fixtures on the walls. The artwork was gorgeous boudoir black and whites. The chairs were soft dark leather and I didn’t feel like I needed to sit on a towel to avoid pregnancy.

  The music was thumping as the next stripper took the stage in front of us. Brittainy’s eyes got wide and her smile turned lustful as she sucked on her bottom lip. I swear she was worse than dudes when it came to gawking and fawning over chicks she found attractive.

  The server came over to us to grab another round.

  “I’ll have rum and diet and she will have a vodka soda lime with a splash of cranberry.”

  Brittainy was in her own little world and didn’t realize I had ordered her a second drink until it was being placed in front of her. We both nodded and thanked the server as the dancer was getting off the stage.

  “Brit!” I yelled over to my drooling bestie. “You need to get a lap dance from that chick. She was freaking good.”

  Her lips turned up at the corners as her eyes locked on the tall dancer walking over to us.

  “Hi ladies. I’m Roxy.”

  Brit took her hand and introduced us.

  “Why don’t you have a seat with us? We’ll grab you a drink.” I quickly scooted over one seat so Roxy could be close to Brittainy, and with that, they were in their kismet bubble of flirting and I was completely invisible.

  I took a big gulp of my sweet drink and my mind started to get more and more fuzzy. I wasn’t a lightweight by any means; I shouldn’t have been feeling so woozy from a little more than one drink. Looking over, I noticed that Brit and her stripper crush had vanished, probably to the back room for a lap dance.

  All of a sudden I was being scooped up into strong tattooed arms that seemed so familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on who they belonged to.

  My brain was fuzzy. My eyes wouldn’t focus. I was being carried out of the club by someone that knew my name. A deep voice kept trying to break through the haze, but I couldn’t understand what was going on. My arms and legs were limp noodles and my eyelids refused to stay open. I finally drifted off to sleep, right as I was being put into the passenger’s seat of a car and getting buckled in. The click of the seatbelt was the last thing I registered before dreams started to take over.

  Chapter 2

  I was startled awake. I had been falling fast in my dream and right before I hit the bottom, my eyes flew open. I quickly started to look around the foreign room. I couldn’t remember anything past seeing Brit and Roxy’s empty seats next to me at the club the night before.

  I was in someone’s bed in a room I had never been in in my life. I was dressed in a large black shirt and my underwear and that was it.

  How’d I get that fucked up last night?

  I rolled out of bed. Hoping to figure out where the heck I was, I peered out the window. I knew that I was downtown somewhere, but for the life of me I couldn’t place the streets and landmarks in my view.

  I spun on my heels as I heard the door to the strange room open. My heart was pounding and I was holding my breath as I waited to see who was coming in.

  What the hell?

  Of course, Bo Briggs slowly started to make his way over to me. I was paralyzed. He was engaged. What in god’s name was I doing in his room?

  “How are you feeling?” He handed me a bottle of water and a couple Advil. His light blond hair was shorter than it had been, and he looked downright military with his defined muscles, sleeves of tattoos, and crooked grin that always brought me to my knees.

  “Fine.” I took the tiny pills and water from my hunky ex and chugged them down fast. In all reality, my head felt like it had been run over by a Mack truck. “What happened last night? Did we…?” I sunk onto the bed. Except for a few times in passing, it was the first time I had seen Bo in a few years. All the old buried feelings flooded me. I had known for a long time that I wasn’t over my ex, but I didn’t want him to ever know that.

  “You were drugged last night at the club.”

  My face felt hot, my palms turned clammy, and my head felt like it was about to explode. “What the fuck?” My voice crackled.

  He grabbed my hand, sitting down next to me. His thick, deep drawl was low as he started at his comforter. “Yeah, I saw the guy slip it into your drink while it was sitting at the bar. Well, I didn’t know it was yours until I followed the server to your table, but by the time I pushed my way through the crowd of people trying to talk to me, you had already taken a few sips. I couldn’t let you be prey to some slimeball, so I brought you home and made sure you were ok.”

  It was a hard thing to wrap my head around. I hadn’t ever worried about being drugged in a bar before. We lived in a pretty safe town and Vixens seemed to be an all right place. “Thanks,” I muttered as I stared blankly at his dark wood floors. “What were you doing at a strip club anyway? You hate those places.”

  He smirked a little, shrugging. “Some of the guys from the team wanted to check it out. Believe me, it was not my first choice, but the new guy doesn’t get to pick where we go.”

  Bo scooted closer to me, pulling me into his side. He was the same Bo I remembered from years ago: tough guy exterior with a heart of gold and a soft spot for people he loved.

  “Well, I should probably get a move on before your fiancée figures out you spent the night with your ex.”

  “You know we didn’t do anything last night, right?” His warm brown eyes were looking down at me and a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth.

  “Yeah. I do. You’re a good guy, Bo. Let’s not ruin your reputation with a tabloid scandal of a two-timing rookie.”

  He let out a big sigh as he fell back onto his blush sheets. “Zara left me for some C-list celebrity she costarred with not too long ago on some dumb ass hemorrhoid commercial. We haven’t made it public yet because the dude is an asshole and still married. Supposedly he is getting a divorce, but I think he is a dick stain, just stringing her along with his money and fancy cars.”

  I heard my phone ringing from the nightstand. It was “Baby Got Back”, Brittainy’s ringtone. “How many times has she called since last night?”

  He smiled. “For sure, over a hundred.” He tossed the phone over to me and shoved up from the bed. “I’ll leave you be for that call.” He laughed a little as he walked out of the room. “Brit is going to f-ing kill you.”

  I nodded and smiled as I hit the accept button on my phone. “Hey.”

  With a wink, Bo shut the door behind him.

  “Hey?! That’s all I get is fucking HEY? Where the hell are you? I have been worried sick all night. Not to mention I was stranded at the club! Did you forget y
ou drove us and my car is still at your damn place?”

  “Were you really stranded?” I chuckled a little.

  “Well, no. I went home with Roxy. But that’s only because you vanished into thin air! I was so freaked out about what happened to you I was up all night calling hospitals and shit.”

  “Brit, I am really sorry. Someone tried to drug me, and get this: Bo rescued me. I woke up in his bed this morning.”

  “Shut the fuck up! Are you ok?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s meet for lunch and I’ll tell you everything.”

  The smell of coffee being brewed wafted into the room.

  “Ok. Call me right when you leave there. Or better yet, I’ll come pick you up.”

  “I’ll text you soon.”

  I threw my phone into my clutch and called through the door, “Bo?”

  He hollered back, “Yup?”

  “Where are your shorts? I’m half naked over here.”

  I glanced down at the clock on his nightstand and gasped a little—it was already half past eight.

  He made his way back into the room. “Everything ok?” he asked as he handed me a pair of black Soffe shorts. I grabbed them and threw them on the bed.

  “Really? Your fiancée’s shorts?”

  “Ex.” He sat on the end of the bed, a light red starting to dust his cheeks and the back of his neck. “And they’re yours.”

  I checked the tag in the back and sure enough, “Peyton West” was scrawled in my mother’s handwriting.

  “Why’d you keep them?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I knew that someday you’d be back for them.”

  His hand landed on my hip as our lips naturally started to drift for each other, but against everything my body was begging me to do, I pulled away from him.

  “Bo, there is nothing I want more than to curl up in this bed with you right now, but I have to get home to Molly.”

  “Molly?” His eyes grew three sizes as he scooted back from me.