The Romantic Pact

by Quinn, Meghan

  He smiles against my lips and pulls away softly. Foreheads connected, he says, “I love you so fucking much, Haze.”

  “I love you, Crew.”

  He pulls me into a hug and I rest my cheek on his chest, holding on tightly, not wanting this moment to—wait. I pull away just enough to look up at him.

  “Why aren’t you at the combine?”

  He chuckles. “That’s what I came here to tell you, but then you started talking and were on a roll, so I let you go first.” He tips my chin up and says, “I contacted Mr. Earnshaw yesterday after talking with my parents and Uncle Paul. I’m staying here, on the farm.”

  “What?” I ask, my pulse skyrocketing as I take a step back. “You’re . . . you’re staying?”

  He nods. “It took me a hot minute to figure it out, but I also received some words of wisdom in the form of a letter and realized that I was living out expectations, I wasn’t living out my passion.” He reaches out and cups my cheek. “Football was expected of me, but you, Haze, you’re my fucking passion, and I would do anything to hold on to that.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  His smile is from ear to ear. “Are you comfortable being business partners with me? Running this farm? Dating? Possibly living out a happily ever after under the oak tree?”

  My hands go to my mouth in shock. “Crew, you can’t be—” My voice cracks as tears spring to my eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” He takes my hands in his again and brings me in close. “You make me happy. This farm makes me happy. This life we could create—the thought of it brings me joy. I like football, always have, always will, but my love for you, for this land, for these memories, it eclipses that any day. I want this, you and me. This farm. Pops watching over us. I couldn’t be surer about a decision.”

  “Crew, I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “Tell me you’re ready to go into business with your boyfriend.”

  I chuckle, and I’m a snotty, wet mess as I nod. “I couldn’t want anything else.”

  I stand on my toes and wrap my hand around the back of Crew’s neck, pulling him down to me. With a wet of my lips, I lift my mouth to his—

  “Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt,” Mia says from behind us. “But I have Marley and Porter on FaceTime over here, and they’re dying to know what’s going on.”

  Mia holds up her phone, and Porter and Marley wave at us.

  “Look, they’re holding each other. I think that’s a good sign,” Marley says.

  “Oh, you should have heard what they said to each other.” Mia clutches her heart. “What a romantic spectacle.”

  “So . . .” Porter says. “Are you two officially together?”

  Chuckling, I look to Crew, who nods. “We’re together.” He leans down and places a kiss on my lips as Marley, Porter, and Mia cheer. “Consider me a resident of New York in a few short months once I graduate.”

  “You’re really going to live here,” I say in awe.

  “I’m really going to live here, Haze . . . with you.”

  Epilogue

  CREW

  “I’m nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous?” I ask Uncle Paul as he hops up and down in place.

  He adjusts the collar of the red Santa suit he’s wearing. “I’ve never been Santa before. This is a big task, one you know I don’t take lightly. I’ve been practicing my ho ho hos ever since July, when you asked me. I still don’t think I nailed the baritone that is the epitome of jolly. How can I go out there and convince kids I’m the man with the plan in the red sled when I can’t ho ho ho correctly?”

  “I heard you practicing this morning,” I say, trying not to laugh at the white beard that he spent an hour coloring this morning. “I thought Santa was in the other room.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “He isn’t,” Hazel says, walking up to me and wrapping her arm around my waist. I kiss the top of my fiancée’s head and hold her tight. “This morning, Crew was bragging about your Santa impression to his friend Hutton on the phone.”

  “Were you?” Uncle Paul perks up. “What did you say? You know I hold Hutton’s opinion in high regard.”

  “I sent him an audio clip of you, and his exact words were, ‘damn.’”

  Excited and now prancing in place, Uncle Paul says, “Oh yes, oh yes, that’s the feedback I want.” He picks up his Santa hat and says, “Thank you, this was exactly what I needed.” He lets out a deep breath. “I’m going to go get into character and eat some cookies. Let me know when the crowd is ready for me.”

  Uncle Paul pats me on the back and then heads downstairs, leaving me alone with a very clever Hazel.

  After Hazel and I made up, she came back to Braxton with me for a few months since there wasn’t much to do on the farm tourism-wise once the Christmas season is over. She had a few of the employees watch over the animals, and she spent some time with me in the frat house. If anything can make a relationship stronger—or break it—that’s where it would happen. But I’m glad she was there, because the fallout of me not going to the combine wasn’t great.

  I took significant heat from fans and students around campus, but it wore off, and I was able to settle into a routine for my last semester, taking Hazel with me to classes, and then studying with her at night. We worked on plans for the farm, how we were going to expand and try to capitalize on every season. Thanks to my marketing degree, we’ve come up with some great ideas and have formed a five- year plan on how to accomplish our goals. Our goals. Not Pops’s. Not my parents’. Ours.

  I wasn’t really sure how much fun I’d have with the farm, but working with Hazel, planning everything out, I quickly realized just how right my choice was.

  After I graduated, I moved out of the frat house and straight into the farmhouse. Mom and Dad joined us for the summer and Uncle Paul visited so we could go over the plans. Since they have a stake in the farm still, they couldn’t be more thrilled about our plans. We also found out Pops wasn’t necessarily truthful in his will. There was a little addendum that Mr. Earnshaw was told to hold off on reading, and that was, if everyone agreed, Hazel could have taken the farm on her own, but being the meddler that he was, Pops wanted to try to get us to open our eyes before that was an option.

  I’m glad he did, because this past year has been the best of my life.

  At Thanksgiving, I proposed to Hazel.

  She said yes, and we’re slated to get married under the oak tree next summer. According to Dad, there’s a honeymoon trip Pops planned out, you know . . . just in case. We plan on taking it. I can’t wait to hear him say, “I told you so.”

  “Are you ready for tonight?” Hazel asks, her hand traveling up my chest, the glint of her ring shining in the light. Mom gave me her mom’s ring to propose with, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful. Generations of love all surrounded by one ring.

  “I think I am. Are you?”

  “I believe so. I have a stock of tissues on hand.” She chuckles. “Why did we decide to share the recording of Pops reading ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas with everyone?”

  “Because we’re not the only ones who miss him this time of the year.”

  This year’s Christmas festivities have led to tonight, Christmas Eve.

  We’re calling tonight the Festivity of Family and Friends. The tickets are sold out, have been for weeks. It will be a dimly lit night of cheerfulness, with a hint of magic in the air. We’ll light up the farm with twinkle lights, sing Christmas carols, play Christmas Eve games, have an appearance from Santa, and of course, indulge in some Lebkuchen—homemade from our kitchen. Hazel and I spent months perfecting the recipe and have been selling it all winter. It’s been a huge moneymaker for us, along with the Schneeballen we decided to make as well.

  The night will end with everyone hovering around a bonfire while Pops reads to
us. A grand finale I’m sure no one will be expecting, not even my parents.

  “I can’t wait.”

  She stands on her toes and presses a kiss to my jaw. “I love you, Crew.”

  “I love you, Twigs.” I smooth my hand over her hair. “This time next year, we’ll be married.”

  “According to your uncle Paul, he’s hoping to have grand nieces andnephews soon from us.”

  I snort. “He has some time before that happens.”

  Hazel raises a brow. “So, if I were to tell you that I was pregnant right now, you wouldn’t be happy?”

  My heart stutters in my chest as my eyes widen. “You’re . . . you’re what?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Just kidding, but glad to know where you stand.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Hazel, you know I fucking love you, but I want to enjoy my twenties for a little while longer before we bring children into the picture.”

  “Me too. It’s why I’m religious about taking my birth control. The way you’re always pawing at me, I use extreme caution.”

  I chuckle and lower my mouth to her neck, kissing along its column. “Do you blame me? You’re fucking beautiful and you’re all mine. Which means, I want you every moment I can have you . . . like right now.”

  Her hand connects with my chest and she pushes me away, giving me a stern look. “I told you to keep it in your pants until later, Smith.” She points her cute little finger at me. “I have a very nice Christmas present planned for you later. Don’t make me take it away.” Leaning forward, she whispers, “It involves your penis in my mouth.”

  I laugh and hold my hands up. Fuck. And I’m not meant to visualize that for the rest of the night?

  “Can’t jeopardize that. I’ll keep it in my pants until then.” I pull her in for one more kiss and then link my hand with hers. “Okay, you ready for this?”

  “Ready.”

  Together, we walk downstairs, where we find Uncle Paul hovering over the cookies, Mom and Dad next to him sharing a Schneeballen, and I can feel Pops’s presence. He’s here, with us, because he brought this all together. He brought us joy. He brought us romance. And he brought us a lifetime of happily ever afters.

  THE END

  Keep reading for a link to a FREE BOOK, Mr. Klein is Fine, and for excerpts from Crew’s best friends’ (River and Hollis) stories.

  More books from The Kings of Football Series:

  The Revenge Pact - by Ilsa Madden Mills

  The Relationship Pact - Adriana Locke

  Excerpt - The Revenge Pact

  River

  “Why is the elevator so slow?” she mutters.

  “Tell me three things you’re grateful for,” I say.

  She does a double take. “Is this where I’m like your…pet project? Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  Rainbow, sorry is the last thing I feel for you.

  I want you under me.

  Deep and hard.

  There aren’t enough minutes in the day for how long I want to fuck you.

  She blows out a breath. “Fine. I can see you aren’t going to budge. One, June is still around. Sam is keeping her low key. Two, I finished my paper, and three, I got off work to go on the ski trip.”

  “How are things with Donovan?”

  Her throat bobs. “I-I can’t talk to you about him. I mean, yeah, um, it…doesn’t feel right, you know, to him.” A sigh escapes her lips.

  Right. He’s her boyfriend and my frat brother.

  The door opens and she slips out, her arm brushing against my chest. I follow, sucking down the electricity between us. “I just wanted to check in—”

  “I know what this is, why you’re being nice to me—”

  “Yeah? Tell me, because I can’t figure it out,” I snap, annoyed she won’t open up while the other side is pissed at myself for asking. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t…” I stop, my jaw clenching.

  She stops at the door to class and turns to face me. Her expression torn, she takes a deep breath. “Your paper. I’m sorry I can’t help you, I really am. I love helping others, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us…” She licks her lips, her gaze avoiding mine. “There’s something about you and me—” She halts and looks down at her feet. “Anyway, I know a few students who tutor athletes. Let me give you their names—”

  “No one but you, Anastasia.”

  “What? Why?”

  Instinct takes over and I back her against the wall, towering over her. I tilt her chin up, and she doesn’t speak or move, just breathing fast, as my hand slides around to her nape. A hum of heat goes through my body as my hands tangle in her hair.

  “River…what…” Pink rises on her cheeks as her lashes flutter.

  Fuck.

  Every time, I’m pushing a little more, the dark side of me winning. Monday. Her apartment. Now.

  I could kiss her right now, but it’s wrong, immensely so, I’m being bad, so bad, but one touch and my dick is a steel pipe, damn, what would it be like to have her in my arms…

  She gazes up at me, her eyes flaring, the gold around her pupils darkening. She swallows as goose bumps appear on her neck.

  A primal sound builds in my throat.

  Anger.

  Frustration.

  Loyalty.

  Dammit. I shouldn’t be this close, shouldn’t touch her—

  “I’ll wait.” I grind my teeth and step back.

  Her lips part, a small puff of air coming out. She looks at my mouth. “For what?”

  The lethal side of me, the one itching to play this game no matter the consequences, tries to take over and speak the truth. I shove it down.

  You, I say in my head.

  Leaving her there, I sweep past her and go to my seat.

  Five fucking rows back.

  Keep reading HERE

  Excerpt - The Relationship Pact

  I reach for the chair in front of me. Instead of finding leather, my fingers brush against something else. Something warmer. Something smoother and rougher all at the same time.

  My heart jumps in my chest at the same moment that my head snaps to the side.

  Oh. Shit.

  The most beautiful set of hazel eyes I’ve ever seen traps my gaze. The warmth of the chocolate brown is cooled by the spring green embedded in the orbs. Gold flecks twinkle as the man slowly withdraws his palm away from mine.

  I open my mouth, but I’ve somehow forgotten how to speak.

  “Hey,” he says, his southern drawl rippling across my ears. “You can have it.”

  I shake my head to try to jolt myself out of the haze I’m in. “I … I can have what?”

  His full, pouty lips split into a sexy smirk. “I meant the chair, but if there’s something else on your mind, just let me know.”

  My heart flutters in my chest as a wave of heat courses through my body from head to toe.

  A couple of days’ scruff peppers a sharp, chiseled jaw. His skin is sun-kissed and imperfect and there’s the slightest mole beneath his left eye that gives a bit of softness to his appearance. His body is long, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a thick chest.

  It’s one heck of a picture.

  Slowly, oh-so-slowly, the fog in my brain lifts.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

  A crazy idea pops into my brain. The longer that I watch the stranger peer at me from under his thick lashes, the more it seems possible.

  Crazy, yes, but possible.

  “Want to do me a favor instead?” I ask before I can talk myself out of it.

  My chest rises and falls in quick succession as he, and I, ponder my question. He narrows his eyes as he undoubtedly considers why a woman he just met might need his help.

  His heavy brows tug together. “That depends on what it is.”

  Blood pours through my ears as I realize I’m teetering on the edge of something impetuous. Again. I’m about to do the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t do.

  Wasn’t I going t
o put the brakes on this kind of thing? Didn’t I swear that I was not going to tangle myself up with men? Wasn’t I going to save myself time and energy until good men come back into the universe?

  I look up and down his long, muscled body.

  I bet he’s a damn good man.

  “Are you going to ask or not?” he asks, killing me softly with a playful quirk of his brow.

  Screw it.

  I take a quick lungful of air and commit to this insanity. “I’m going to need an answer to two questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Quickly.”

  He grins. “I can’t answer them if you don’t ask them, beautiful.”

  I steady myself against the term of endearment and stay focused.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask.

  His eyes sparkle with mischief. “I like where this is going.”

  “That’s not an answer and we’re running out of time.”

  “No,” he says hurriedly. “Hard no. Definitely not. No girlfriend.”

  “Second question …” I take another deep breath and then go in for the kill. “Will you be my fake boyfriend for five minutes?”

  His grin knocks the breath I’m holding right out of me. “When do we start?”

  For Hollis and Larissa, starting is the easy part. It’s ending their fake relationship that’s hard. Fall in love with them HERE

  Ready for your FREE BOOK? Read Mr. Klein is Fine HERE

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  The Romantic Pact