“I’m not denying it,” I admitted on a whisper. “But I’m not indulging it either.” I waved a hand between us. “This can’t happen. I’m your—”
“Boss,” he cut me off, then smiled. “But not for long,” he added. “I can wait.” He winked and then pointed to the computer behind me. “How’s the ostrich hunt going?”
I blinked a few times, my head spinning from the jump in topics. He seemed to notice the whiplash and laughed softly. I straightened in my seat, shifting gears. “Not as well as I’d hoped,” I said. “There aren’t as many ostriches in need of rescue as I assumed there would be. At this rate the reserve will be completed before I secure the birds. They’re incredibly expensive and, thanks to you, we do have a considerable budget but I’m trying to figure out if there is any other option so we can save funds for advertising and stocking the reserve. So…I’m at a crossroads. For now.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“Oh, I know I will. I just need time to puzzle it all out.”
Connell glanced at the clock. “You have plans tonight?”
I pressed my lips together. “Connell we can’t—”
“Eat?” He cut me off. “I’m having dinner with Logan and his girlfriend. Come with us. Help me not be a third wheel.”
I bit my lip, contemplating. I was hungry, but doing anything with Connell outside of this office seemed dangerous.
“It’s just food, Annabelle,” he said. “No expectations or schemes.” He held up his hand in an I swear motion.
A thrill rushed through me. The only dinner plans I’d had for tonight consisted of a cold sandwich and a good book.
“Okay,” I said. “Where should I meet you?”
“I’ll text you the address,” he said, slowly backing out of my office. “See you in a bit.”
And before I could argue, the damn Scot was out the door.
“Baby, just show them!” Blaire teasingly nudged Logan in the booth seat across from us.
I’d cringed when the waitress had guided us to a booth instead of a table, knowing I’d have to sit so close to Connell. Have to feel the warmth of his body and smell that intoxicating scent all night. I’d silently cursed and thanked the waitress as I’d slid in, taking the interior seat, as had Blaire.
“They don’t need to see it,” Logan said, his voice strong but quiet, calm.
“Babe!” Blaire shook her head, her long hair swishing over her shoulders with the move. Her playful laugh did nothing to mar the perfection of her makeup, either. It only made her look more beautiful.
I shifted in the booth, suddenly wondering if I’d selected the correct dress tonight. A vintage Dior off-shoulder dress, it hugged my curves on the top and billowed out in the skirts, stopping just below my knee. When I’d slipped it on, I’d felt as beautiful as the queen Marilyn Monroe herself, but next to Blaire? God, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her, that much was clear from the skin-tight tube-top black sequined dress she wore. She looked perfect next to Logan. Like she belonged there.
She’d look perfect next to Connell too, or anyone like her. Much more than myself.
Stop.
Right. I sucked in a sharp breath and straightened in my seat. I loved my body. I loved my life. I’d never questioned it before, and I wasn’t about to start questioning it just because of one mind-blowing kiss from Connell. We weren’t an item, so I didn’t have to worry about being compared to girls like Blaire.
“Here,” she said, plucking her phone from the corner of the table where she’d had it all night. She’d managed to snap four selfies, five different angles of her meal, and even went as far as taking a picture of our after-dinner coffees. “Check this out,” she said and turned the screen to face us.
Her Instagram feed filled the screen, but she expertly clicked an image from the dozen shown and enlarged the post.
“That’s your gear bag,” Connell said, tilting his head at Logan.
I too was confused as to how this was the career-impacting post she’d been talking about for the last half-hour.
“Yeah,” Logan said.
Blaire rolled her eyes. “I made sure he laid his favorite Under Armor shirt over the top,” she said, smiling at Logan. “It got over twenty-thousand likes, and now they’ve contacted him for a sponsorship!”
“Congratulations,” I said, grinning at Logan. “That is wonderful.”
Logan wrapped his arm around Blaire. “I’ve never understood social media, much. Mostly my PA handles the page, but lately, Blaire has been taking lead,” he said.
“I’ve tripled his followers,” she said, leaning into him. “And this Under Armor deal will be the first of many, babe.”
Logan shrugged but placed a tender kiss on her forehead.
“That’s nice, man,” Connell said before taking a sip of his coffee.
“Thanks,” Logan said. “Good for me, good press for the team. I’ll take it.”
“You’d have a hundred more offers rolling in if you’d just model like I’ve been asking,” Blair said.
I couldn’t argue there. Logan had rich brown eyes, dark hair, and was just quiet enough to be marked as the broody and mysterious type women lost their minds over. He also had a Reaper body, which meant sculpted perfection. Though he was beautiful, nothing stirred inside me when appreciating him. Not like it did when Connell…breathed.
“No,” Logan said, his tone a bit sharper than before. “I won’t.”
“He will,” Blaire said, ignoring Logan and instead looking directly at Connell and myself.
“I’ve told you a hundred times, Blaire,” he said. “I’ll never model.”
“Tons of your teammates do it. Tons of celebrity athletes do it.” She rolled her eyes again. “Use what you have—”
“No.”
Connell and I picked up our coffee mugs at the same time, glancing at each other through the awkward tension. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at the wide-eyed look Connell flashed me.
“Okay,” Blaire said, finally focusing on the severe look Logan wore. “Sorry, babe.” She stroked his chest. “I didn’t mean to bring it up,” she continued. “I’m just so proud of you for your deal.”
The tightness in Logan’s shoulders visually loosened, and I watched, fascinated at the way Blaire coaxed him back to his previous pleasant state.
“That didn’t get awkward at all, did it?” Connell asked me an hour later as he walked me to my car outside the restaurant. The couple of interest had already left.
I laughed softly. “Not at all.”
We stopped outside my closed drivers’ side door, the warm night air carrying the scent of the rose bushes decorating the exterior of the building.
“Do you know why he’s so against using his good looks for publicity?” I asked, curious.
Connell leaned an arm against my car. “So you think Ward’s attractive, do you?”
I grinned. “Anyone on the planet would think he’s attractive, Connell.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, but there was a playful mischief in his eyes as he stepped closer. “You say such awful things,” he said, his body so close to mine his knees brushed the billowing skirt of my dress.
“He’s not my type,” I said, my heart racing as I held that gaze.
“That’s better,” he said. “And who might be your type?”
I bit my lip. “Definitely someone serious,” I teased. “Someone truly grounded. Not a goofball. Absolutely not an athlete.”
Connell leaned down, his breath warm on my cheeks. “Sounds boring.”
I gaped at him in faux-shock. “Then I must be boring.”
He shook his head, and I hated how much I wanted to push back those strands of blond hair from his forehead. “You’re far from boring, Annabelle.”
I lifted my chin. “Oh, yeah? Then who do you think is my type?”
He smirked, his eyes trailing down my face, my neck, and up again. “Someone who can make you laugh. Push you out of thos
e confined boundaries you keep yourself in. Someone who can let you be your powerful, professional self during the day, but the minute you come home? He takes over. Takes care of you. Lets you lose that control you cling to in favor of complete, mind-blowing, freedom.”
My bottom lip trembled from the tight breath that loosed from my chest at his words. Heat snaked through my blood, pulsing in my core with an endless hunger.
Kiss him.
Wrap your arms around his neck and drag him into your car.
Invite him home.
“Good night, Annabelle,” he said before I could say one coherent word.
I breathed a sigh of relief at him saving me from something I knew I’d regret. And maybe he’d sensed that. Maybe he knew me better than I thought. Because I couldn’t…we couldn’t…and he understood that. Respected it, and damn him for it because it made me like him even more.
“Good night, Connell,” I said as he headed toward his car across the lot. “Thank you for dinner,” I called just as I’d slipped opened my car door.
He spun around to walk backward, his dark blue suit shaping his body like it had been made for him. “Of course,” he said, and winked at me. “See you tomorrow.”
I bit back my smile and hurried to sink behind the wheel and close the door, scolding myself for already counting down the hours until tomorrow came.
5
Connell
“So, you’re really not coming?” Cannon asked through the speakers of my Jag as I pulled onto a country road just outside Sweet Water. He was the best defenseman on the Reapers. Hell, he was probably the best defenseman in the NHL. He was also covered in tats from head to toe, had an infamous temper, and was scary as fuck to the general population.
Lucky for me, I was not the general population.
“I can’t. I have a work thing,” I told him, watching the GPS carefully so I didn’t miss her house. Not that there were many houses out here.
“Right. So not sure if you remember, but skating is your work thing.”
“And I would love to get on the ice with you again today, but I told Annabelle I would go to her family barbecue.” We’d just had a pick-up game yesterday.
After a good thirty seconds of silence, I sighed.
“What do you want to say, Cannon?”
“Nothing. I didn’t realize you two were that close. Or that you were family-meeting close with any woman. Or any man. You know I don’t care how you swing.”
“Ha. Funny. And it’s not like that. I guess her family has been asking to meet me since we’ve been working together for five weeks now.” One more week, and I’d be done with my community service.
“Ah, she wants to show off the prize pony. Got it. What I don’t get is why you agreed to it.”
“Because…” I blew out a frustrated sigh. “Because I want her.”
“Then fuck her and move on like you usually do.”
“It’s not that simple.” The truth of that statement had my hands strangling the wheel as I passed the first house since turning onto this backroad. Damn, where the hell did this woman live?
“You don’t just want her. You like her.”
“Yes, and I have no bloody clue what to do about it. There, is that what you were asking?” A line of parked cars appeared up ahead on the right.
“Not—”
“She’s impossible. You know that, right? She obeys every rule and does everything by the book. That’s why she’s so against going on an actual date with me.”
“Because you’re a convicted criminal serving his sentence under her? Or because she thinks that all you want is to get her under you?” he asked, a trace of amusement in his tone.
“The first,” I admitted since the way she’d kissed me back last week implied that the second might not be an issue. “We’re polar opposites. The woman seriously needs to loosen up.”
I pulled up behind the last car and parked, counting at least seven other cars. Exactly how big was her family?
“Look, Scot, I’m happy to play Dr. Phil, but I’m the last person you want to get relationship advice from. I’ve yet to find a woman I’d like to fuck more than once or twice. But it’s funny because both Noble and McCoy are probably who you’d want to talk to about relationship shit, and ironically, they’re headed to the rink to skate right now.”
He left the hint hanging there in the air.
“Yeah, yeah. You guys have fun.”
“See ya.” He hung up without waiting for me to say goodbye because that’s just what he did.
I grabbed the box of cupcakes I’d brought from Sweet Treats, the local bakery, and mentally patted myself on the back for getting two dozen instead of one. By the time I reached the front porch of Annabelle’s house, my short-sleeve button-down was threatening to stick to my skin from the heat and humidity.
The porch was decorated with boxes of cascading flowers in pinks and purples and even had a porch swing. It was exactly as I’d pictured it—not one flower petal out of place.
Before I could knock, the front door was yanked open by a woman with a wide grin. “You must be Connell,” she said in the same deep southern drawl Annabelle used.
“I am,” I answered with a practiced smile.
“Well, come on in!”
“Thank you.”
She pushed open the screen door, then led me in. “I’m Annabelle’s Aunt Milly. Belly-boo? Your very handsome Scotsman is here!” She called out as she looked me up and down. “And that accent? My, my!”
We walked through a well-kept living room and turned the corner where the floorplan opened up to the den, kitchen, and dining room. Holy shite, there were a lot of people here.
“Aunt Milly, I’ve told you a million times not to call me that,” Annabelle chastised with a tight smile as she pushed through the small crowd. Her cheeks flushed, and I immediately got it—she was embarrassed.
“I brought ye cupcakes,” I told her as we met beside the dining room table.
“Oh my Lord, did you hear him talk?” a feminine voice asked from the kitchen.
Annabelle grimaced.
“Dinna fash yerself, lass,” I said softly. When she arched an eyebrow in confusion, I laughed. “Sorry. I mean, don’t worry. I’m used to being gawked at, remember?”
“It really means a lot that you’d do this,” she whispered as she reached for the bakery box. Her hair was down today, the curls braided down one side of her face until they stopped just above her breast. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw the way her retro wrap dress hugged her frame. It was pale pink, which I figured had to be her favorite color by now.
“If it means I get to spend time with ye, I’m in. Now introduce me to your family, Annabelle.” The urge to touch her was overwhelming, and my hand rested against her lower back as she turned to face her family.
Every single set of eyes was on me.
“James! Pat! Get in here!” Milly called out the back door.
Usually this was when I’d crack a joke, but I knew it was important to Annabelle that I not act like...well, me.
Two men came in through the sliding glass door and removed their hats, which must have been Annabelle’s cue because she took a deep breath.
“Now that we’re all here, I’ll only have to do this once. Everyone, this is Connell MacDhuibh. Connell, this is...well, it’s everyone.”
They all waved.
“Pleasure to meet ye,” I said with a nod.
“Connell, we’ve heard so much about you!” A woman in her fifties smiled as she came over, and I couldn't help but echo it because it was Annabelle’s.
“Ye must be her mother.”
The woman startled with surprise, but quickly recovered. “Yes! I’m Tara. We’ve heard so much about you from our little Belly—Well, our Annabelle. Now let me take these off your hands, dearest.”
The cupcake box disappeared from Annabelle’s hands, and we were swept into a flurry of family. Names flew left and right, and I did my best to remember e
veryone, but that lass didn’t have a family, she had a clan.
It must have taken the better part of a half-hour to get through everyone, but Annabelle stuck to my side until it was dinner time, and then she took the seat next to mine.
“Now, the Clarkes have been in Sweet Water since about a decade after it was founded,” her father, Davis, told us as we passed the barbecued chicken around one of the long tables that had been constructed in Annabelle’s dining room. Good thing the lass kept folding tables in her storage room because I’d counted and there were twenty-two of us here.
“And we’ve lived here ever since,” Aunt Milly added as she passed another dish to the right.
“Not Uncle Grady,” Taylor, Annabelle’s eight-year-old niece, argued. “He moved to New York.”
“God save his soul,” Grandma Mary muttered at the end of the table.
“My brother works on Wall Street,” Annabelle whispered while the others were distracted.
“And that puts his soul at risk?” I asked, tilting my head toward hers only slightly. If I turned even an inch, my lips would graze her cheek.
“Anything above the Mason-Dixon line puts his soul at risk,” she whispered.
“Och. Well then, I guess that explains it.”
We grinned at each other until Tara cleared her throat from across the table. “So, Connell, tell us how you like our little town?”
“I quite like it,” I assured her. “It’s nice to live somewhere I don’t have to worry about the press or paparazzi. Miami was a wee bit too much for me.” I took the potato salad from Taylor, then held it so she could dish some for herself.
“Need help, darlin’?” Jackson, her dad, asked from her other side.
“Nope. I can do it myself.”
“I’m here!” a bright voice announced from the doorway. A woman with straight brown hair beamed as she walked in. Her sundress looked tailored, and her heels were high.
“It’s about time!” Tara answered with a bright smile. “I left a seat open next to me. Go put your things down and get over here, Savannah.”
Connell (Carolina Reapers Book 3) Page 5
