Bad Boy's Cinderella: A Sports Romance Read Free

and so unbelievably similar to my sister’s style that it was like the fucking skies opened up and shone a spotlight down on it. She would love it; I could already hear her squeal ringing in my ears.
    I leaned forward, addressing the back of the driver’s head, quickly checking his name on my phone. “Hey…uh…Kevin, I need to stop by that dress store real quick.”
    Kevin glanced at me in the rear view mirror, and then out at the street. It was obvious he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about, but he gave a curt nod anyway, every bit the professional. “But I can’t really stop here,” he said, and he was right—the traffic was flowing thick and freely, and there were no parking spaces for us to slide into without causing an obstruction. “I know a parking lot farther up that’s usually pretty empty, if…”
    “I don’t mind walking,” I said quickly, and a few minutes later Kevin swerved us into the parking lot of a ratty convenience store.
    I asked him to wait and then left the car and paced back down the street, heading for the shop, fighting the urge to smile like a damn lunatic. I didn’t get to do this often—stroll through downtown, window shopping and people watching. My schedule didn’t allow it, and while the world was at its most active, I was usually at practice, six to eight hours a day. Sometimes ten. My freedom came after dark, and not always every day. I hadn’t walked past an open ice cream shop in weeks—I was almost tempted to go inside, if it wasn’t for the Uber driver back in the car, dutifully waiting for me.
    My stomach dropped when I found the dress missing from the window, the headless mannequin now standing naked and a little frayed around the edges. Inside, a woman leaned behind the cash register scribbling something on a piece of paper—and there was no one else in the store. Whoever had bought it must’ve been one of the world’s fastest shoppers. Maybe if I could get a description of the purchaser, I’d be able to catch up to them and make them an offer. No price was too steep if it meant keeping my bratty sister off my case.
    I cleared my throat and approached the register. “Hi there,” I said. The woman looked up at me, glasses perched on the edge of her nose, attached to a gold chain draped around her neck. She looked like a vaguely irritated librarian, and I found myself swallowing awkwardly, without any real idea why. She clearly had no idea who I was, thank God. “Uh. I saw a dress in the window a few minutes ago. Red, maybe silk…?”
    “Yes,” she said, tone clipped. “A customer is trying it on right now, sir.”
    “Oh.” It wasn’t too late. I was pretty confident that whoever came out of that dressing room would be willing to let the dress go once they saw me and I made an offer for it. Or when I explained the nightmare of my sister to her, if my charms failed.
    As if on cue, a large wooden door at the back of the store flung open and a woman shuffled through it, looking down at herself as she tugged the hem of the red dress into place over her delectable curvy body. Sizable, round breasts—my favorite kind. Hourglass figure. Bubble butt. The skies were smiling down at me.
    I froze on the spot.
    The golden tan to her smooth shoulders, the flash of jade-green eyes… I recognized her immediately, and my vision almost clouded just as quickly as my groin tightened at the sight of her in that dress.
    She hadn’t spotted me yet, too occupied with pulling the dress into place, and I took the opportunity to watch her shamelessly, the sexy sway of her hips and the golden curves of her calves and waist. She was fucking breathtaking—I’d thought it back then, during our first meeting, and I thought it now, twice as hard. Hard being the operative word. Because it was just the two of us now, and this might be the chance I needed to turn my luck around.
    “Barbara,” she was saying, “do you have a pair of shoes I can try with—oh.” She’d