The Warrior Groom_Texas Titans Romances

by Lucy McConnell

  “A couple?” she asked, disgusted.

  “Three.”

  She talked as she walked to the side of the stage, looking for something. “It took three guys to do that to you?”

  “Yeah, but they look worse.” He smiled, which caused him to cringe as his cheek lifted.

  She gave him a pointed look before returning to her quest.

  “I didn’t start it, but I finished it.”

  “Aha!” She tossed a small first-aid kit into the air and grinned, triumphant. “Is that why you’re hiding? Because they’re coming after you?” She eyed the side door.

  “Naw. They’re long gone.” The thought of those guys coming anywhere near Maia made him hot all over. He’d do some major damage if they even tried. “I’m back here praying for a miracle.”

  She brought over a stool, which put her at the exact same height as him.

  He liked looking her in the eye. “You have beautiful eyes.”

  She paused and dropped her gaze. “Thanks. So do you. I—I mean your eyes are nice. To look at. Into?”

  He chuckled and placed his hand on her knee. A current passed between them. It was thick and gooey and sweet and bright and traveled straight up to his heart. Both of them stared at his hand on her knee.

  “Did you feel that?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

  She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to the first aid kit, jolting as if she’d forgotten it was there. “Let’s clean you up as best we can.”

  He left his hand there because it felt right. She didn’t seem to mind. She even placed her hand on his shoulder. It was small and light, like having a robin sit there. Her long hair fell forward and brushed his arm.

  “You were telling me why you were hiding.” She focused on tearing open antiseptic wipes.

  “Oh, uh.”

  She cupped his chin and turned his face away from her, dabbing the bruised and swollen skin around his eye.

  “Coach has a no-tolerance policy on fighting. Doesn’t matter if we don’t start it—we’re off the team.” Her ministrations were slow and comforting. He’d been patched together more times than he wanted to know and had never enjoyed the experience. He hated people touching him. On the field, he got to fight back, and most of the time he was the one sending the other guy to the ground. His teammates knew better than to smack him on the back in the hallway or pretend to punch him; he didn’t have to tell any of them twice to keep their hands off. And he only ever put up with medical attention because he had to. This was so different. Every brush of Maia’s fingers was warm and inviting. He continued talking, not wanting her to stop. “If he finds out, he’ll cut first and ask questions later—probably after my dad comes in and chews his butt.”

  Maia smiled. “It’s nice that your dad has your back.”

  That turned his tongue off. “Yeah.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she cracked an ice pack and placed it on the side of his face. Her other hand went to his uninjured cheek to remind him to hold still.

  His eyes dropped to her lips. She had great lips. The top one arched without a dip in the middle. Everyone had a dip, but not Maia. She was different in so many good ways. He wondered if he’d notice a difference in her lips if he kissed her. He shouldn’t be thinking those things. Not about a girl like Maia. She was … smart and driven and … waiting for him to say something. “You sing pretty. Your song, it was really pretty.”

  She smiled shyly. “Thanks for helping me. I don’t think I would have made it out there if it wasn’t for you.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Her bottom lip pouted out. He thought about what he’d said and his hand tightened on her knee. She was so small and delicate to touch, but the fire inside made her appear much bigger.

  “I didn’t mean that the kiss didn’t mean anything to me; I meant that I was happy to do it,” he blurted. His neck warmed and he rolled his eyes at himself. “I—I didn’t mean. I mean—”

  She giggled. “That’s good to know.”

  Girls giggled around him all the time. They had high-pitched squeals and covered their mouths to hide their real laughter. Maia’s giggle was low, throaty, attractive, and it stirred all sorts of enjoyable feelings inside of him.

  He placed his large hand over the top of her hand, resting on his cheek. “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”

  Her cheeks colored and she glanced away. He couldn’t tell if it was his touch or his question that produced her blush. “I used to, when I was little.”

  “I do all the time.”

  Her right eyebrow quirked. “Why?”

  There wasn’t much he could say. To the outside world, he had it all—the talent, the college scouts sending emails, a father who cheered him on, and a mom who smiled through it all. He couldn’t break the carnival mirror, and so he said, “Because if I were anyone else, I’d kiss you right now.”

  A small gasp escaped her lips, and her hand began to tremble under his. She stared deep into his eyes, deeper than anyone had ever looked. No one dove past his size, his abilities, or his grades. No one except Maia. She’d done the same dive in the tunnel, and it had touched a part of his soul he’d kept locked away for a long time. Despite his better judgment, he let her in, allowed all the darkest parts of himself to reflect in his gaze.

  And she took it all in. Every last bit of him.

  The ugly, the pain, the triumphs, the hopes, all of it.

  He was the one short on breath now. She slowly lowered the ice pack and it ker-plopped to the floor. “What if I don’t want to kiss someone else? What if I want to kiss you?”

  He brushed her hair over her shoulder, searching her face for some sign that she was joking, toying with him to see how far she could push before yanking away. She stared at him with an openness that spoke of safety and a love unlike any he’d ever known.

  He tugged her off the stool, wrapping his arm around her lower back. Even through all their clothing, he could feel her warmth, like lying on a heated massage table. Only there would be no painful kneading of muscle or stretching of sinew with Maia. Maia was the promise of all things desirable.

  With the sweet scent of her peppermint gum filling his senses, he brushed his lips against hers. A slow one-two-three count, and then he broke contact. With other girls, he might have gone for more, but with Maia, he wanted to savor the journey.

  Chapter Five

  Maia tried to relax into the leather recliner in the alcove outside of her bedroom. She’d turned the space into a small styling area. She used to use the master bathroom, but as her fame grew, her privacy lessened, and she needed boundaries. Her suite was off limits to everyone but the cleaning woman and sometimes April, and Maia cherished her space.

  Kristi, her stylist, worked dye into her eyebrows using a tiny brush. Because of Maia’s naturally dark hair, her brows, which were several shades lighter, tended to blend into her olive skin. Dying them, periodically, made her blah-brown eyes stand out more than if she allowed her face to become monochromatic. The premiere party for the princess movie was only a few days away, and she wanted to look her best.

  “Maia!” Kristi scolded. Inspired by a vampire romance she’d read over the weekend, Kristi dyed her blonde hair gray and wore blood-red lipstick. Maia was still trying to acclimate from beauty next door to the undead.

  “Stop kinking your eyebrows. I can’t get the lines straight,” Kristi scolded.

  “Sorry.” Maia covered her mouth as another yawn escaped.

  “What are you stressed about?” Kristi asked as she dipped the brush in the dye.

  “I’m not stressed.”

  “Honey, you can’t hide those bags under your eyes from me. No matter how much concealer you apply.”

  “You’re catty—you know that?”

  She frowned in sympathy. “Tell me.”

  “I ran into an old b—” She’d almost said boyfriend. “Friend, and it brought up a lot of
issues from my old life.”

  “Ah.” She made short, quick movements with the brush, and the skin under Maia’s eyebrows grew cold. “We all have parts of us we wish we could forget.”

  Maia ran her thumb across the tips of her just-filed and primed fingernails.

  Kristi paused. “Or maybe this is someone you don’t want to forget.”

  She sighed. “I thought I had already forgotten him.”

  “Him? Hmm, spill it.”

  Maia chuckled. “There wasn’t much to tell. High school sweethearts destined to break apart with graduation. We were on different tracks.”

  “Oh, honey, he broke your heart.”

  “What?! No—why would you …?” She lifted off the padded leather seat and her protective goggles fell into her lap.

  Kristi gently pressed her shoulders back down. “Don’t go crazy on me—I could hear the wistfulness in your voice.” She repositioned the goggles. “Let me guess: now that you’re a star—and gorgeous—he wants you back. And you, you hopeless romantic, are considering it.”

  “First off, I was gorgeous even before you came into my life.” She stuck out her tongue. “Second, he doesn’t care about fame. At least, he didn’t use to.” The London she knew wouldn’t have been caught dead at a bachelor auction. The auction was for a worthy cause. And London had a soft spot for vets because of his grandpa. “I don’t know. He didn’t say anything about wanting me—” She was going to add the word “back” to that sentence, but the words London doesn’t want me had scraped at her heart and taken her breath away. Just as they had that night at prom when he’d been so distant.

  “A man doesn’t have to come out and say he wants a woman.” Kristi scooted back, and the soft beep of a timer being set met Maia’s ears. “Let me ask you this: did he chase after you?”

  Maia brought her hands together and threaded her fingers over her belly. London had come right to her dressing room door. He could have left the building and she’d never know what happened to him. Well, she would have known, because she followed him on Twitter—through her alternate ego’s account, of course. “Sort of.”

  “Then you can be sure he wants you.” The timer dinged as if putting a punctuation mark after Kristi’s words.

  She smiled to herself, wondering if Kristi planned that. Arguing with Kristi about a man wasn’t worth the breath it took, so she took a deep breath, enjoying the eucalyptus essential oil wafting up from the diffuser in the corner.

  Did it matter if London wanted her? They had a history—some of it hurtful and most of it bliss. “We’re two different people now, Kristi. We can’t go back to being the naïve sweethearts we once were, and I’m not sure I would fall in love with the man he is today.” The only reason that statement had any truth to it was because she wasn’t sure she could let herself love anyone that much ever again.

  Kristi cleaned off her eyebrows and finished the mini facial in silence. Just as she was wrapping things up, April bounced into the room. “I have your itinerary for the release party, your dress is hanging in your closet, your accountant agreed to push the meeting until next Monday, your agent is still working on SNL, and I thought you might like to see this.” She tapped on her tablet, and an image of Maia, wearing that stunning bright pink gown and walking arm-in-arm with London, appeared.

  “Where did you get this?” Maia reached out to take the tablet, her arms moving as if weighed down by five hundred pounds. She stared, transfixed, at the two of them together. London in his expertly cut suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and trim middle. He looked at her like she was his whole world, and she smiled up at him as if the years between them never existed.

  I remember everything.

  “It’s part of an article about the fundraiser.” April flipped her hand as if the picture was no big deal. “I can call them for a print and we can get it autographed. Might be fun for your collection.”

  While Maia was an actress, at heart she was a full-on geeky fan. Meeting some of the biggest names in Hollywood was the absolute most bestest perk of her job. She had a couple dozen or so autographed glossies hanging on the wall of her in-home theater room. Two of them were with football legends. One was with a pitcher for the St. George Redrocks, Brayden Birks. She had one with Sally Field that she was especially proud of, having grown up on Smokey and the Bandit thanks to her mom’s love of Bert Reynolds.

  April was the one tasked with getting the pictures autographed so that Maia’s super-fandom status remained undetected and she could pretend she was cool.

  April’s false nonchalance was a dead giveaway to her level of investment in this project. Maia needed to squelch that. She glanced back down at the picture and could practically feel London’s expensive jacket under her palm. She traced her hand over his cheek.

  “Uh-oh.”

  Her head came up at Kristi’s voice.

  “That’s him? London Wilder is the guy from high school?” She pointed at Maia’s chest. “Don’t deny it.”

  Maia laughed at her shocked expression. “I’m not denying anything.”

  April cupped her fingers around her mouth. “You should have seen them the other night.” She burst her hands out. “Fireworks.”

  Kristi dropped onto the seat next to her. “Is that the only image for the story?” She swiped left to a picture of Riker Dylan and a woman.

  April coughed into her fist. “They have images with all the players and their dates.”

  Before Maia processed what that meant, she was staring at a picture of London sitting at a small table in a gazebo with a beautiful blonde. The sun was going down, casting a golden glow over the couple and making their eyes sparkle. Or, maybe their eyes sparkled like that because they were happy with each other.

  He’d gone ahead and created the gazebo date—the player. She’d never gone near one without thoughts of him overcoming her mind and body, and therefore avoided them with the same effort she put into avoiding asparagus. Blech.

  With a grunt, she shoved the feelings of jealousy away and dropped the tablet in Kristi’s hands. “They look perfect for each other. I hope they’re very happy together.”

  “But—” April reached out as if to stop her and then pulled her hand back.

  Maia bolted to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She crossed to the overstuffed sofa and draped herself across it, unable to care that she was sprawled out like a starfish. She’d given up on London long ago and had therefore given up the right to feel jealous over any of his dates. He’d had enough of them. One Google search would let her see the evidence.

  A small voice inside her head said, It’s not like you lived in a hole.

  True. She’d dated her fair share of leading men, unknowns, and once a cashier at the gourmet food store, who was six foot one and had a strong jawline and hair that hung over his forehead. He’d been a real sweetheart until he figured out who she was and pitched a fit about her income being an insult to every hard-working American out there.

  He was kind of a passionate activist with an odd sense of self-righteousness.

  Boy, she could pick ’em.

  Her eyes fell on the open walk-in closet door and she became curious enough about the mystery dress April had hung in there that she rolled off the couch and made her way inside.

  The garment bag unzipped with nary a sound, and yards of cherry-red fabric spilled out. She pushed the bag off the hanger and took a good look.

  The dress had a collar—not quite mandarin in style, but with a hint of the Orient. Which was appropriate. She’d asked for something that would complement the movie’s theme without making it look like she’d dressed as her character. She wanted a sophisticated nod instead of a gushing bow, and Earl Deveron delivered beautifully. The bodice was lined with bone to allow the fabric to drape and gather perfectly while still forming to her shape.

  At the hip, a cluster of pearls and diamonds sparkled and then cascaded down the slit to the floor, where they exploded over the hem. She stepped back a
nd eyed it critically, determining the hem would brush the floor as she walked.

  She reached out and fingered the fabric, letting the softness caress her. For a brief moment, she pictured herself walking the red carpet with London at her side. He filled out a tux in all the best ways, and they’d be stunning together.

  Not to mention she’d have more fun with him than if she went alone.

  She sighed and turned away, leaving the dress to air out. “I’ve spent too many hours thinking of you, London Wilder. No more daydreams.”

  Now that she’d seen him in person, had a bit of closure, she could finally put the past to rest. It was time to look for a man to replace London in her heart.

  Chapter Six

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” asked Jay.

  London leveled his signature “hard core” stare at his agent, the one he used on receivers to let them know he had his eye on them, and they weren’t getting away with jack. “I don’t play these types of games.” Not since the last time his dad tried that one. London’s ribs ached as if haunted by the ghost of that night.

  “Fine.” Jay whipped out an eight-by-eleven envelope with a well-known logo on the front. “This came to my office for Mr. London Wilder.” He laid the envelope down and slid it across the glass tabletop.

  The restaurant, named Transparency, rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t like the glass tabletops, didn’t like looking at his feet while he ate. If he wanted to do that, he’d eat standing up in his kitchen.

  Then there were the glass “walls” around each seating area. As if the glass was supposed to give a semblance of privacy when all it did was make you want to look through it. Like when he ran at night and passed a house with all the lights on—he couldn’t help but turn to look. It wasn’t like he particularly cared about the people on the other side of the glass, or even had a desire to peek into their lives. It was the spotlight of being behind glass like exhibits at the zoo. That was it—he felt like he was on display.