I Bet You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Hey, I send back. Great game.

  Thanks. You busy?

  Only about to host the party of the year. No, I type.

  Really? Don’t you have the party?

  We’re texting like nothing is wrong, but I feel the undercurrent, the reality that we are different now. Vulnerable.

  Yeah.

  I’m not coming. I just wanted you to know I got the message from Blaze.

  Okay.

  He sends another text. There’s something I’ve been wanting to say and I just haven’t found the right way—

  The screen goes blank and I realize my phone has died.

  “No!” I shout up at nothing in particular and let out a growl of frustration. I stomp my foot.

  “Penelope.” The voice is deep and husky.

  I whip around and there he is.

  His hair is damp from the shower, curling at the ends. He’s wearing a button-up shirt and low-slung jeans. My gaze eats him up, missing him.

  “What…were you there the whole time?”

  He nods. “Coach let me skip out early and miss the celebratory talk. I showered fast and waited for you to leave and followed you.” Uncertainty crosses his features. “I was nervous to say anything in person, and I thought maybe if I texted you…”

  I nod, getting it. We tend to say more in texts.

  I think back to the game where I watched him the entire time, unable to shift my gaze away. And here’s what I realized. The Ryker of my heart would never participate in a bet that involved me. And I didn’t need Margo to tell me that. Or Charisma to explain about how sometimes we say things we don’t mean.

  I know him.

  I think maybe I’ve known him for a long time, or my soul has. Since the moment I researched and wrote the article about him, he carved out a place in my brain, and now he owns my heart.

  He comes in closer, a hesitant look on his face. “Did you see what I wrote?”

  I hold my phone up. “Well, my phone died…so no.”

  He’s reached me now and we’re close, just a few inches between us. He smells like sandalwood and spices, and I want to lay my hand on his chest and feel his heart beat.

  I do it. My hand trembles as I press it against his body. I gaze up at him and emotion swirls in his eyes. “Your heart is racing.”

  “I love you,” he says quietly. He closes his eyes then opens them. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me—even better than football. If I had to pick between the two, it would be you every single time.”

  My legs feel like jelly.

  “The truth is, I wanted you that day at Sugar’s and it had zilch to do with a bet. I wanted you in my bed and it had shit to do with a bet. You are all I want, and if you’ll just forgive me for my big mouth…” He pauses and rakes a hand through his hair. “I can’t go on knowing you hate me, Red.”

  “I could never hate you.” Tears prick at my eyes.

  “Yeah?”

  I nod, need for him rising, the need to fix this growing gulf between us.

  So many things are a mystery. The origin of the universe, if vampires are real—okay, probably not—but one thing is certain. I love him.

  It’s a connection I’ve felt since the beginning.

  “I love you too, Ryker. So much. I’ve never felt this way…” My voice cracks.

  His eyes gleam as he trails a hand through my hair. “Penelope, I don’t deserve you, but fuck if life isn’t better with you. I’m more of who I should be with you, and I promise you, I will never let you down like that again.” He cups my face, his gaze intense. “You…are…everything.”

  I chew on my lip. “Is that what you were saying on the field? That you love me?”

  He nods. “I was close to getting on the jumbotron and announcing it. Hell, the team already knows.”

  I arch my brows. “They do?”

  He takes my hand and leads me over to his truck, which I parked right next to. On purpose? Maybe.

  He continues. “Before the game, Coach let me speak to everyone. He pretty much gave me free rein—seems he has a soft spot for you.”

  Ah. “I barely know him, but he is friends with my dad. What happened with the team?”

  “I took down the bet trophy and chucked it in the trash. I ripped the betting board apart. No more bets. It’s a tradition that’s over and done. My decision.”

  I’ve never been in the locker room, but I picture him in his football gear, ripping it off the wall and throwing it in the garbage.

  “Was the team upset?”

  He shakes his head. “Red, those guys were so fucking relieved to be rid of that thing. Even the defense and Archer’s posse. It’s caused so much shit.”

  “And Archer?”

  “Quiet as a church mouse. Maverick’s back next week anyway.”

  I suck in a breath. “So how does the team know you love me?”

  He smiles softly. “I told them, Red. I made a big, touchy-feely announcement. I said you were the girl of my dreams and if any of them fucked it up and talked shit about us, I’d kick their ass.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Can you ever trust me…us…again?”

  Not trusting has held me back long enough.

  I nod, a tremulous smile on my face.

  His hand curls around my midriff and lingers on my backside, cupping my ass. His gaze is smoldering as he looks down at my non-shirt. “Now, care to tell me where the rest of your clothes are?”

  “I’m Madonna. I get to be slutty. There’s no judgment.”

  “Fuck yeah, you do. But only with me,” he growls. His lips take mine in a hard kiss, sucking on my tongue and devouring me, tasting me as if he’s stranded in the desert and I’m a tall glass of water. He drinks me down, consuming me.

  Holding him tight, I give it right back, my mouth clinging to his. His hands pull me close.

  “Can we get frisky in your truck?” I ask a few minutes later.

  He cocks a brow. “It’s a hardship, but I’ll do anything for you, Red.”

  Ryker

  We walk up to the Chi O house, and it’s a wild scene. People are on the porch dancing and whooping, and music blares from around back as pink and white lights flash in the sky—Chi Omega colors.

  I take Penelope’s hand and gaze down at her. Her lips are swollen from my kisses and her hair is a little lopsided, but damn, she is fucking hot.

  I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and straighten her pink shirt, which isn’t really a shirt at all, basically just a bra. I’ll let it slide because she’s with me.

  We reach the porch, and a few people come forward to slap me on the back and congratulate me on the game. I nod and tug Penelope closer. I don’t want her getting away from me tonight. I want to take it all in. Her. The fact that she loves me. The realization that this year—it’s going to be my best one yet.

  Charisma comes barreling through the doors of the house.

  “It’s about time y’all got here. This party is OTC!” She’s wearing some kind of wide-brimmed fedora and carries a whip. Blaze tags along next to her, his hand stuck in the back pocket of her khakis. Penelope texted her earlier and said we were back together and that the football boys were coming to the party. I guess word travels fast.

  Which might explain Blaze’s yellow parachute pants and tight red silky tank top.

  “Nice shirt,” I say to him as the girls talk to each other.

  He rolls his eyes. “Charisma. She’s taking this 80s theme seriously.”

  I pop an eyebrow.

  “She’s telling you what to do and dressing you?”

  He shrugs. “You see her. She’s a force. I have a hard time telling her no.”

  I laugh.

  Margo joins us on the porch with Connor in tow and I pause, feeling my inner caveman getting riled up.

  Penelope leans over and whispers, “He’s with Margo.” Her face breaks out in a smile, and she gives my hand a squeeze. She must have been watching my reaction. She does that a lot. We both do, I g
uess, each of us in tune with the other.

  Margo comes forward and presses a wad of clothes into my hand. “No one enters without appropriate attire. Chi Omega rules.”

  Penelope giggles, and I think it’s an inside joke.

  I look down at the bundle. “You’re telling me I can’t come in unless I put this on?” I release Penelope’s hand to hold up the outfit, a huge pair of lightweight black baggy pants with elastic on the bottom and a tiny blue tank top. “No fucking way.” I check the label. “This shirt’s an extra small…in women’s!”

  “We know,” the girls say almost in unison, watching me with relish.

  “But it’s Wildcat blue and perfect for you.” Penelope smiles. “We got the clothes on Amazon a while back, anticipating that some big growly football player might not want to dress up.”

  “You’re welcome, QB1!” Charisma adds as she and Margo high-five each other.

  “Clearly we did this because we had too much to drink at one of the planning meetings,” Margo says with a little hiccup. “But I like it!” She grabs Connor’s hand. “Come on, let’s go get more champagne.”

  I look down at the MC Hammer pants and back at Red. She arches her brows. “Whatcha gonna do, Baby Llama?” Her accent is sweet and exaggerated, and I grin.

  “Babe, I said I’d show you the world once, and if that means me dressing like this, I’m all in.” My voice trails off as she blushes.

  “Stop with the fuck-me eyes you two,” Charisma says. “Off to the changing room with you, Ryker.” She points inside to a bathroom right off the foyer.

  Blaze tags along with me as we head into the house. “Dude. I can barely breathe in this thing. Do you think it’s cutting off my circulation?” He tugs at his…blouse?…and I bark out a laugh.

  “Red looks good on you, man.”

  He mumbles. “It better.”

  I head to the restroom.

  “I’ll grab us some beers,” he calls out, and I give him a nod.

  I close the bathroom door and strip off my jeans and button-down. If this makes Red happy, I’m all about it. I’m picturing her face when she sees me in my outfit when the door opens.

  “Dude! Wait outside!” I turn around expecting to see Blaze, but it’s her.

  She closes the door behind her, and her eyes are bright as she takes in my naked body. Of course I pose, tightening up my muscles.

  “Couldn’t stand to be without me, huh?” I grin.

  She looks down at my cock, which jerked to attention as soon I saw her.

  She pounces and gives me a kiss, her legs wrapping around my waist. Fuck yes. I’ll never get enough of her. I enfold her in my embrace, holding her by the ass as our lips cling together. Heat roars through my veins. I feel like a rock star with her. Like I can take on the world and nothing bad will ever happen.

  We get hot and heavy, and my fingers slip inside her panties from behind. I groan at the feel of her silky skin. “You’re wet, babe.”

  “You’ve broken the seal and now I can’t get enough.” She gets a glint in her eyes. “How about third base right now, and later we can do the pirate thing?”

  I kiss her hard. “I created a monster…but hell yeah.”

  A few minutes later we walk out to the party.

  “Nice shirt!” Dillon calls out as we pass by him.

  I pop the strap on my blue tank top. It’s itty-bitty and my chest hair is poking out everywhere. “Yours too, man.”

  He’s wearing the same parachute pants and a bright yellow tank. Looks like all the football guys were cornered. “You got a good one there.” He glances at Penelope and gives me a fist bump before turning to talk to someone dressed as Cyndi Lauper.

  Penelope takes my hand, and we walk through the house. Several girls wave at her, and she smiles as we head to the back. I feel like I’m in a dream. And here’s the thing—I’ve had some kickass moments in my life, the time I won a state championship, the day I got my scholarship from Waylon, but nothing…nothing beats having her.

  We step out into the yard, and I take in the wooden stage and the DJ bouncing around behind the stereo.

  Penelope gets sidetracked by Charisma, and I head straight to him. After a few moments of explaining what I want, he shrugs and hands me the microphone. I tap it to get everyone’s attention. “Hello, my name is Ryker Voss, and I have something to say.” My voice echoes across the yard.

  The music is turned down, and everyone slowly turns to face me. There’s some whispering going on, and I see rustling in the crowd as some of the people from inside slip out to join us.

  “We know who you are, QB1.” I grin when I recognize Charisma’s voice.

  “Go Wildcats!” someone says.

  “Great game!” another one calls out.

  I rub my jaw, feeling sheepish, struggling with what to say. I had the confidence when the idea struck, but now as I look out at all the curious faces, I’m not so sure.

  “Spit it out,” someone yells, and I think it’s Blaze.

  My gaze searches the crowd until I see Penelope. She’s standing on the right side of the yard and Margo is next to her. She arches her brows at me. What the heck are you doing? is written on her face.

  I clear my throat. “We won a big game tonight…” The crowd cheers and I hold my hand up. “It’s been a great season and it means a lot that you guys are supportive—especially after everything we went through last year.”

  I hear some murmurs of agreement and see heads nodding.

  “First, I want to say thank you to the Chi Omegas for inviting us and providing these splendid outfits. I know they spent a lot of time deciding exactly how to best show us off, and the entire team appreciates it.”

  “Here, here!” Margo calls out.

  “I want to see you dance in those pants!” someone else says.

  I rake a hand through my hair, and my hand shakes. I clear my throat. Again. “But most importantly, I want to say that I love Penelope Graham.”

  The partygoers grow quiet. Some of them make awww sounds, and some search the crowd for the girl in question.

  But I know where she is. I always will.

  My gaze locks with hers, and she stares back at me, and maybe her lashes are wet—I can’t be sure, we’re too far apart—but fuck, I feel insanely giddy.

  “Anything else?” someone yells.

  “She completes me,” I say simply before lifting the cup someone pressed into my hand. “Party on!”

  The crowd erupts in cheers. She meets me at the bottom of the stage, her big gray eyes luminous.

  I stare down at her. “God, Red. I wanted to be more eloquent. I got nervous—”

  She kisses me and my arms go around her.

  “It was perfect,” she whispers into my ear. “We’re perfect.”

  Penelope

  Two years later

  I’m humming as I open the door to our penthouse. The smell of Ryker’s spaghetti sauce is the first thing I notice, and I groan, inhaling the yummy spicy scent. It makes my stomach rumble.

  “Shit! Pen! Give me a cigarette!” squawks Vampire Bill from his perch next to the window that overlooks Central Park in Manhattan.

  “No sir,” I tell him. “Smoking is bad for you.”

  I call out Ryker’s name as I cross the room to check on my bird, but I don’t get his usual Hey Red call. I assume he must be too engrossed in cooking, and I give Vampire Bill a little scratch on the head.

  “The word of the day is author,” I tell him, unperturbed by his glare. “I know. Easy, right. Well, today—and I’m telling you first because Ryker hasn’t popped out to see me—I signed my first contract with a publisher! Isn’t it great?”

  Vampire Bill rolls his eyes.

  “I know, I know, it’s taken a long time, but with enough perseverance, dreams do come true. Isn’t that cool?”

  He shakes his head.

  I grin. “Say Pen is an author. An awesome, deliriously happy author.”

  He picks up a piece of leftover f
ood from the bottom of his cage with his foot and flings it at me.

  I sniff, dodging it. “I know you’re happy for me. You just have a hard time expressing love. Want a Ritz?”

  “Shit! Yes!”

  I give him one.

  “Ryker,” I call out as I leave Vampire Bill and walk into our ultramodern kitchen with its granite countertops, steel range, and white cabinets. Ryker and I bought it a year ago after he was selected by the New York Giants as the first pick of the draft.

  After homecoming at Waylon two years ago, the Wildcats won the national championship, a first for our school. So, while he didn’t come out with the Heisman, there’s nothing sweeter than a championship ring that proves you’re the best. Archer ended up being drafted in the third round, but his career stalled when he was arrested for getting into a fight outside a nightclub.

  It looks like a tornado has come through the kitchen. There’s a pot of delicious red sauce simmering on the stove and pans everywhere. I turn off the sauce and set it on the counter. Looking around, I see he’s made a platter of caprese salad, complete with tomatoes, mozzarella cheese, and basil. There’s also a bottle of champagne open with two flutes next to it. Several lit candles glow on the table. I grin, imagining him going to all this trouble for me.

  Where is he?

  Hmmm.

  It’s the offseason, thank goodness, and part of me wonders if he hasn’t gotten sucked into watching old game tapes in his study.

  I make my way down the hall, and when I hear a tortured groan coming from the bedroom, I detour and head that way. I open the door and freeze.

  “What in the heck are you doing?”

  Ryker’s standing bare-chested in his jeans next to our nightstand, his face white as he looks down at his very sparkly and magenta pink chest and then back up at me. I blink.

  His white shirt is on the floor as if he whipped it off in a hurry.

  He runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, fuck, Red. I didn’t think you’d be home for another half-hour.”

  I stride over to him and take the bottle he has in his hand, read the label, and look up at him. “Unicorn glitter lotion? Really? Where did you get this?”

  “Some girly store. I thought you’d like it.”