“All right, kids,” coach Shannon Ludwig called as he walked out of the office. “Time to get this show on the road.”
—
Sam shook his head. It was still ringing a little from his tackle of the Seattle running back that had resulted in a fumble and a turnover. Jo Jo Jones came running over and jumped on his back, shouting in excitement, which didn’t help the ringing in his ears.
“Sam, Sam,” Jo Jo was shouting. “My man! That’s some shit, right there.” He jumped off his back and smacked the side of his helmet, and Sam nearly stumbled. “You are a beast today!”
Sam grinned despite his ringing ears. That was his third tackle today. Clearly the Seahawks had considered his piss-poor stats in previous games when coming up with this week’s game plan. He could see the running back yelling on the sidelines as he watched the replay on his tablet. King ran up to Sam and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Good job,” was all he said, but it was enough. “I’m going to see that scoreboard in my dreams tonight.” He pointed downfield and Sam kept grinning as he looked at the 17–3 score in favor of the Rebels. This had been a crazy game from start to finish. If the Texans lost today, the Rebels would move up in the division standings, to second place. That was the highest the team had ever been ranked in their short history.
Quarterback Ty Oakes walked by, putting on his helmet. He stopped just long enough to pat Sam on the shoulder. “Thanks,” he called back, as he ran onto the field.
“I like the way this feels,” Sam told King.
“Winning?” King asked. “Pretty good, yeah.”
“Not just winning,” Sam said. “Feeling like I’m contributing something to the team, finally.”
King put him in a headlock. “You always contribute,” he said. “Just not always on the field.”
Sam laughed. “Gee, thanks.”
“Anytime,” King said, laughing that big, booming laugh of his as he let Sam go.
Sam watched with satisfaction as Danny Smith ran the ball to the Seahawks’ eight-yard line. If they made this one, it would give them a comfortable margin for the last three minutes. Miracles happened, but not for the Seahawks so far today.
Ty handed the ball off to Tom Kelly, the rookie running back. Smith was a finesse player and a great runner, but Kelly was in a league of his own on first-and-goal situations. When he flew over the Seahawks’ defensive line and scored, the Rebels’ sideline erupted in cheers.
“Burgers,” King said over the shouting, nodding his head.
“Burgers,” Sam echoed, anticipation almost overriding his elation at winning and his performance in the game. Almost.
Chapter 15
Jane shifted nervously from foot to foot as she waited outside Jack Brown’s. What had she been thinking to promise to go out with them if they won? You were thinking they’d lose, she chided herself. After all, they were the Rebels. She might not know much about football, but she heard enough around town to know they’d been the worst team in the league for at least two years running. But to hear Margo tell it, their game against the Seahawks was the best game they’d ever played, and Sam had the best game of his career. Jane wasn’t above feeling a little pride about that. After all, his reward was a date with her.
Which sounded really lame. A date. Hot sex would have been better. She bit her fingernail and peered up and down the street looking for a big black Escalade. That’s what King had texted they’d be driving. Should she have let them pick her up like they’d wanted? She glanced around at the crowded parking lot. No. This was better. If everyone in the place freaked out at the three of them together, she could make some excuse to go to the bathroom and make a run for it. Childish, maybe, but it was best to have a game plan.
She saw a big, black SUV slow to a stop at the red light a block away. Was that them? Her heart started pounding and her mouth went dry. Oh, God. This was a mistake. Sam was not ready for a relationship. She knew that, had witnessed it the night they spent together. He was latching on to her because she was the first woman he’d had sex with since Afghanistan. She’d read the books; she knew all about PTSD. What Sam was feeling wasn’t real and shouldn’t be encouraged. Just because she liked him and wanted him, badly, didn’t mean she should ignore her ethical duty as a nurse not to take advantage of someone in Sam’s state of mind.
Although he’d seemed all right on the football field, hadn’t he?
She paced as she waited for the light to change. It was burgers, for God’s sake. They were going to eat. She’d congratulate them on the game. Then she’d break it to Sam gently that this wasn’t a good idea. She’d have to be more forceful with King. He was a force of nature, just rolling in like the tide, steady and relentless until you gave in. When he wasn’t around she could resist. But when he looked at her with those big, brown, melted-dark-chocolate eyes and smiled, she couldn’t say no. She straightened her spine, watching the SUV turn into the parking lot. She could resist. She was a strong, independent woman.
When they climbed out of the SUV and they both smiled, clearly happy to see her, her resolve wavered. They were so good-looking, even casually dressed in jeans and T-shirts. And totally jacked. She remembered the feel of all those muscles against her hands and her body and she shivered a little, goosebumps on her skin. She’d had them. She could have them again. It was so unbelievably hot, knowing that. She’d never felt more like a desirable woman than she did right this minute with both of them looking at her like they wanted to skip the burgers and eat her for dinner. She shook off the feeling. No. No, no, no.
She smiled back, though, because manners, right? And, she was glad to see them. Her eyes were overdosing on them.
“Hey,” Sam said as he stepped over the curb onto the sidewalk in front of her. He licked his lips and she almost groaned. His mouth was to die for. He could kiss and lick pussy like a pro. She blushed at her wayward thoughts.
“Hey,” she squeaked. She cleared her throat. King laughed, and she looked over at him standing behind Sam. “Hey to you, too,” she said with a little bit of sauce in her voice.
“Hey to you, too,” he mimicked. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” Sam told him. “I told you to eat something.”
“I’ve been saving up my appetite,” King said with a sexy wink for her. She almost dropped to the sidewalk and spread her legs. God, she was so easy. “Besides,” King continued, gesturing for her to walk ahead of them, “look at me. It takes a lot to feed this body.”
Sam laughed. “Ditto. I’m starved.” He took her upper arm in his hand and gently nudged her toward the door. “Do you want to sit inside or out? It’s nice out.”
“Inside,” she said quickly, even though it was beautiful out, about seventy and sunny. Outside meant anyone driving by could see them; inside, there was a limited audience.
The place was packed, and no one paid them any attention when they came in except a waitress. “Seats at the bar,” she said in passing. “Next table is yours.”
Sam smiled at her and moved toward the bar. There was a football game on the TV above it. She slid onto a metal stool and Sam took the stool on her right. There were no other stools, so King stood behind them. Both men glanced up at the game. “Cardinals should take this one,” Sam said dismissively. He turned to Jane. “So, how have you been?”
“Good,” she said, suddenly feeling awkward and shy. “And you?”
He laughed. “Are you kidding? I had the best game of my career yesterday, thanks to you.”
She reluctantly smiled. “You really wanted these burgers, huh?” To her surprise, King squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
“Close,” he said. “But not really the big motivator.”
“Hey, folks, what’ll it be?” the bartender said, coming to stand in front of them. She could tell as soon as recognition hit. “Holy…wow, I wasn’t expecting you guys in here.” His grin was huge. “Great game yesterday!”
“Thanks, man,” Sam s
aid, holding out his hand. The bartender shook it with awe.
“That was the best defensive game I’ve seen the Rebels play, thanks to you,” he gushed.
“Thanks,” King said with a big laugh. The bartender blushed, but before he got too embarrassed, King said, “Just kidding. That game was all Sammy, all day.”
“Can I get a pilsner?” Sam asked, putting the conversation back on track. Jane could tell he felt uncomfortable talking about himself. He was the complete opposite of what she’d always imagined pro athletes to be like.
“Sure. What kind? We have, like, a hundred beers on the menu.”
Sam looked like a deer in the headlights. “You pick. You’re the bartender.”
“I like light beer,” Jane said. “Artisanal. Surprise me.”
“Lager,” King added.
“Fantastic,” the bartender said. “Coming right up.”
“Do you guys get that a lot?” Jane asked, curious. “The fan thing? Especially from bartenders?”
“Enough,” Sam said. “Me not so much, because I don’t stand out that much. But King, all the time. A Samoan in Birmingham is still a little unusual.” King laughed his big, booming laugh again.
“True, brah,” he said. “I’m just too pretty not to notice.” Jane silently agreed.
The bartender came back and placed three bottles in front of them. “If you don’t like them, just let me know,” he said. “I can get you something else.”
“I’m sure these will be great,” King said. “Thanks.”
“What did you do the last few days?” Sam asked before he took a sip of his beer.
“Work,” Jane said. “At the hospital, there’s always work.”
“Nothing too terrible?” King asked in concern, lowering his beer with a frown before he took a drink.
“Not especially,” she said. “Except for the people suffering, that is. But no crash cart while you were gone.”
“Good,” King said with another gentle squeeze of her shoulder.
I could get used to this kind of attention, she thought. She wanted his hand wrapped up in her hair and tugging her down to suck him off instead of on her shoulder. Warning! Danger ahead.
“The flight to Seattle was awful,” Sam complained. “Turbulence and delays. It sucked.”
“Sam hates flying,” King told her. “I slept through it.” Jane laughed.
“Sorry,” she told Sam. “I don’t like flying very much either. That kind of flight must make playing a game afterward very tough.” She imagined joining the mile-high club with Sam in the back of the plane to take his mind off the turbulence. With effort, she forced herself to concentrate on the conversation.
“Usually, yeah,” Sam said. He grinned at her shyly. “But I managed to get my game on.”
“My mom was freaking when we got home,” King said. “The air conditioner broke.” He shook his head. “Stuff always happens when I’m not around.”
“Did you get it fixed?” Jane asked. “One of my cousins is an air-conditioner repairman.”
“Guy came this afternoon,” King said. “Apparently, when you tell them it sparked and smoked, they come right away.”
“Oh my God,” Jane said with a shocked laugh. “Was everyone okay?”
“You didn’t see none of them at the hospital, did you?” King asked with a wink.
“How’s Mika?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.”
“He’s a little stinker,” King said with a shrug. “Bored and tired of being out of the game.”
Jane nodded and took a sip. This evening had turned surreal. She was sitting here with Sam Taylor and King Ulupoka making small talk at a burger joint, and every other thought in her head was X-rated.
“I’m strung pretty tight,” she admitted, without looking at either guy. “I’ve been nervous as hell about tonight.”
“Oh, thank God,” Sam said with relief. “Me, too.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you two,” King said, clearly exasperated. “We’re having burgers! Eating food. That’s it. Honestly.” He shook his head.
Jane and Sam laughed at the same time. “My head knows that,” Jane told King. “But I’m still sweating like a cat with a long tail at a rocking-chair convention.”
Sam snorted his beer and started coughing. “What?”
“My grandmother used to say that,” Jane said. “I like that one.”
“Table’s ready,” the waitress said behind them. “If you could pay your bar tab, I’ll take you over.”
“I’ve got it,” Sam said. He waved King and Jane away. “You get the table.”
Jane tried to keep a low profile while they walked to the table. Because of his size, King garnered a lot of attention. She’d kept her clothes low-key tonight, opting for jeans and a plain navy T-shirt, with low-heeled wedges. Her hair was down so she could hide behind it if need be. She felt like a spy. Or Taylor Swift dodging the paparazzi.
The table wasn’t far from the bar, just along the wall behind it. It was a tall table, and the seats were high stools with backs. King helped her up onto one next to the wall, then took the seat next to her. “Sam and I can’t fit together on one side,” he explained. “So I get the advantage.”
“Are you competing?” she asked curiously. Had they decided they didn’t want to try the threesome thing? She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
King thought about it a second. “No, not like that. Just to see who gets to be close to you. Like now, at dinner.” He leaned closer. “But when we get in bed, we’ll both be close to you.” He pressed his palms together as if to demonstrate and Jane swallowed nervously.
“I’m going to be awfully thin after that,” she said, nodding at his hands. He laughed, drawing the attention of a couple of women at a nearby table. They immediately put their heads together and began whispering. She wasn’t sure about what. Sam wasn’t even at the table with them yet. Jane had never felt more self-conscious in her life, which was ridiculous. She was just sitting in a restaurant with a guy. What was the matter with her?
King put his arm along the back of her stool and picked up a menu to look at it. “I really missed you,” he said. “You make me laugh. And you don’t give in all the time. I like a challenge.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Are you going to be a challenge, Jane?”
“Sorry to disappoint,” she said with a mock frown. “But if we were alone I’d already be jumping your bones.” King let out another huge boom of laughter.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, squeezing her knee. “We’re going to get along fine, in and out of bed, Jane Foster. We think the same. I like you. A lot.” Jane had butterflies in her stomach at his declaration.
“I like you a lot, too.” They sat there staring at each other and Jane got goosebumps at the heat reflected in his eyes. “That kind of scares me,” she said honestly.
“Me, too,” King said. “But it’s thrilling all the same, isn’t it? Like a roller coaster.” He grinned. “That’s what I feel like. Like a kid at Disneyland.”
“Do I get to be a princess? I want to be Merida,” Jane declared.
“Who’s Merida?” King asked, frowning. “I never heard of that one.”
“She was the princess in Brave with the long, curly red hair. The one who refused to marry a man chosen by her parents. She insisted on fighting for her own hand.”
“That sounds like you,” King said, his charming grin back in place. “Merida. I like that. Now I’m going to get you a Merida costume. ’Cause I might be into that.”
“What?” Jane asked in shock.
Before he could answer, Sam walked over and grimaced when he saw King sitting next to her. “That’ll teach me to offer to pay the bar tab,” he complained, sitting across from her.
“Next time we go to a place with round tables,” King said, looking back down at his menu. It was the perfect opening for Jane to tell them there’d be no next time. She opened her mouth and nothing cam
e out. Sam looked at her oddly, cocking his head.
“Yeah?” he asked, clearly waiting for what she was going to say.
“Nothing,” she said. “Nope. Nothing. What are you guys getting?” She grabbed a menu and nervously pretended to be engrossed in reading it. She already knew what she was getting. She’d been here so many times she had the menu memorized. She had a thing for burgers.
“I’m getting the Greg Brady,” King said.
“Good choice,” Jane told him.
“And the Elvis. With sweet potato fries.”
“Both?” she asked incredulously.
“I’m hungry,” he said, stone-faced.
Sam was shaking his head as he looked at the menu. “I’m getting the Shocker,” he said. “I like spicy.” Jane was sweating just thinking about how spicy she wanted to be with him. “And a plain cheeseburger. With the crinkle fries.” He closed the menu. “I’m not as hungry as King.”
“Oookay,” Jane said. “I’m getting the cheeseburger, too.”
“No fries?” Sam frowned. “You can get the fries.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “With sweet potato fries.”
“She doesn’t have to get the fries,” King said.
“I want the fries,” she told them, exasperated.
“I just don’t want her to think that we’ll think bad of her if she gets the fries,” Sam snapped at King. “You know there are women who practically won’t eat in front of guys because they want us to think they live on air or some shit like that.”
“I do not live on air,” Jane protested. “I live on food. I’m getting the fries.”
“Good.” Sam looked satisfied.
“Good,” King said with a shrug. “As long as you get what you want.” It was another perfect opener to tell them that what she wanted was to end this thing before it began. But she waited a beat too long and the opportunity passed.
“Are you coming home with us after dinner?” King asked, jumping right to the big question. Jane choked on her beer.
Jacked Up Page 11
