by Cari Quinn
“Other than you,” he agreed quietly.
So he wasn’t as fickle in the bedroom as the press had led her to believe. One more reason to make her wonder why he wouldn’t go public with her at the wedding. Yes, they’d had good reasons to keep things discreet—for Vic, for the tabloids that were stalking him, for her own peace of mind to limit questions after he’d gone—but it was getting harder to accept why she couldn’t tell anyone about the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Meanwhile, the sand in the hourglass was slipping away.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began.
She turned to him eagerly. This must be it. His big declaration that he wanted to go public. Mental fist-pump time.
“Yes?”
“Maybe going to the wedding together isn’t the best idea, since it’ll be so hard for us to keep our date secret.” He touched her cheek. “You know, just like you said. It would be easy to get too…familiar where other people could see us.”
Though her smile didn’t falter, her mind whirled. If he thought he was backing out of their secret wedding date, he had another think coming.
Okay, so perhaps she’d ease up the lid on the off-limits box one more time, all gingerly-like. While doing so, maybe she could suss out his feelings on the whole public relationship deal without completely revealing her own thoughts on the subject.
“Well, as far as you remaining hands-off when you’re with me in public, it’s sort of a necessary evil. I mean, it’s not like we have another option.” Do we? C’mon, say we do.
“Nope.” He kissed her fingertips. “Vic alone would be a pretty persuasive deterrent. My sister is one hell of a bulldog when it comes to those she cares about.”
“She cares about you, too. So much. You’re her big brother. I always envied her one of those.” She couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of her tone.
“I used to think of you as a little sister.”
“Careful, we’re wandering into Game of Thrones territory now.” She grinned up at him as he tugged on her hair.
“Notice I said used to? That was pre-wanting to screw your brains out.” He adjusted his hold on her and skimmed his hand up her belly to toy with her nipple. “Very pre, I might add.”
“Uh-huh. Nice save, lecherous one.”
His grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Glad you have me pegged. I’m oh so eager to corrupt you.”
Something in his phrasing, though teasing, struck a chord in her, as if there was more behind what he’d said than the obvious. But as soon as he put his mouth and hands on her, boom, forget it, all rationality went out the window. He probably knew it, too. “Get busy then.”
“Oh, I will.” He nipped her earlobe. “Seven a.m. will be here way too soon, and I still have a lot of corrupting left to accomplish.”
Seven a.m., right. How could she expect him to want to be her public date at his sister’s wedding when he wouldn’t even spend a whole night with her, let alone tell her where he was going so early? When this was over, he would saunter away without a fuss. He’d never fight with her, because even that required more effort than he was willing to expend. If she balked, he’d be out of there.
This was all they would ever have. It was about time she stopped toying with the possibility of more and went with the flow.
She swallowed the tightness in her throat and reached down to cup his hardening cock. “No time like the present.”
Chapter Nine
At seven a.m., Bryan pulled up to wait for Dillon at the job site that was suspiciously quiet. No one else from the team had arrived yet. The sun was starting to break over the mountains in the east, casting a pink glow over the street a few blocks from the one he’d grown up on. A kid’s bicycle lay on the lawn next door, forgotten there during yesterday’s play.
He’d been that kid once. A long-ass time ago.
Resigned to wait, he sat on the top porch step of the A-frame house and rotated between his palms the travel mug of tea Jill had insisted on making for him. He tipped his face close to the escaping steam.
He hadn’t wanted the tea, but she’d foisted it on him saying the herbs would improve his focus for that day’s training. He’d take any help he could get. His knee was hurting like hell, probably due to his feats of spectacular athleticism with Jill.
Smiling, he sipped. So fucking worth it.
He checked his phone. Nothing from his agent, despite the two messages Bryan had left. Maybe Hank was busy. The time before the free-agency period opened up was usually a busy one for him, but Hank was normally better about returning calls.
Unless he was avoiding him. After Cade’s call yesterday, that possibility seemed even more likely.
What was he supposed to do if the team dropped him? Stay in Haven? Shack up with Jill? They both knew that was a bad idea, even if she seemed to have forgotten it. All that talk about them going to the wedding as a public couple. Didn’t she realize what she was asking?
It was bad enough that Vic would have a meltdown. Worse would be how he’d inevitably disappoint Jill. Even if he couldn’t find a way to stay in football, he couldn’t just start a new life here. Not with her. She’d want things from him he didn’t know how to give. His time with his father had reminded him that some things—like long-term relationships—were better left for other men.
Men like Dr. Pete. He’d hate knowing she was with someone else, but she deserved someone like that. Someone who would stay with her. Someone who was more than a football player.
Hell. Maybe he was fooling himself—and her—by not ending this now.
He glanced up at the crunch of tires. A shiny dark green truck with the words Value Hardware on the door pulled to a halt in the driveway, and out climbed Dillon, work gloves sticking out of the pocket of his jeans.
“About time.” Bryan set aside his travel mug and rose. “You lose the rest of your team, son?”
“The rest of the men are on another priority work site this morning.”
“Christ, what kind of shit do you plan to have me doing?” Bryan turned to look at the house. It appeared to be in perfect shape. Usually the Helping Hands homes that Dillon and his crew fixed up for returning vets and others who needed them were obvious works-in-progress.
Not this one, at least externally.
Dillon walked around to the back where he had a seedling wrapped in burlap and set it gently on the ground. “I got this at Lex’s Divine Flowers yesterday. Figured we could start with putting in some ground cover. Plus, there’s other stuff that needs to be done.”
Bryan narrowed his eyes. It was looking more and more like Dillon had an ulterior motive for asking for his help. The question was what. “Why can’t Lex help you with stuff like ground cover?”
“Maintaining separate spaces is vital to marital harmony.”
The pang that kicked hard in Bryan’s chest was an unwelcome surprise. Damn, they were dropping like flies around him. “Is that a hint that you’ll be getting hitched soon? FYI, I’m not going to any more weddings for at least a year.”
“What if Mel finds someone? She does all that traveling.”
“One sister getting married per decade is plenty. If you tie the knot, I’ll send you guys some box wine and a party pack of condoms, and pretend it’s like our prom night redux.” Bryan crouched and pulled down the burlap to poke at the roots of the tree. “So why a Maple?”
“Longevity. According to Lex—who’s been getting her woo woo stuff from Vic—such things are positive Feng Shui for the house.” He sighed. “Lately Feng Shui is all I hear about.”
Bryan smirked. “I’d pull out my tiny violin but I shoved it up your ass.”
“At the risk of losing my man card, it’s so fucking good to have you back. Seriously.”
“Yeah.” Bryan smiled. He still couldn’t believe it was good to be back.
“You enjoy the renovation stuff?”
Bryan shrugged and pulled at the burlap, covering the exposed roots of the tree. “I did
some charity work down south. I like putting shit back together better than it was before.”
“I know what you mean. You gonna be spending more time here in the off-seasons, or is this trip just a one-off for Vic?”
And there it was. Dillon had probably been angling for that information all along. He must’ve heard the Yorn rumors, too, and was wondering if Bryan intended to pack it in entirely. Not that there weren’t tons of teams he could go to, but Dillon knew how much being on the Mariners meant to him. It had been his dream since high school.
Sometimes dreams changed.
Rather than deflect, Bryan decided to lay it on the line. “There may not be an off-season for me if I don’t get picked up. Or if the team that picks me up isn’t one I want to go to.” Bryan brushed the dirt off his hands and stood. He hadn’t intended to reveal his insecurities in that arena to anyone, but hell, he’d known Dillon since he’d tried out for his first Peewee league.
He was so damn tired of keeping everything close to the vest. His team status, his progress with rehab, the fact that his mom was in a place some less enlightened folks might call a mental home. Now there was Jill. One more hidden thing in an ocean of them.
Going to the wedding together could be a positive step. The only problem was what came after that. He just didn’t know.
He was beginning to think he wanted more with her than just these five dates—fuck, he knew he did—but that didn’t mean he had any clue how to make it happen. Not with the distance between them if he stayed on the team—assuming she wanted him—and not with her own baggage from the situation with her dad.
Then there was his fame, which, whether he stayed on the team or not, didn’t make it easy to have a relationship. Even if he kept his nose clean, there’d still be stories circulating about women and parties. Gossip rags lived for that kind of fuel, and though they’d eventually leave him alone if he shunned the limelight, they’d hang on long enough to make a real life impossible for him for a long time.
Whatever happened, he needed to do what was best for her. Not him. No matter how it stung.
That included calling off their date to the wedding. Time spent together around their family and friends—even in secret—would only blur the lines. All the fun and games were great, but if continuing their arrangement until the moment he left would make it harder for her afterward, perhaps it was better if they quit while they were ahead.
His shoulders hunched. If he was going to call off their wedding date, he’d have to do it soon. But when?
They were going out again Saturday night. He’d suggested a latenight movie after Vic’s bachelorette party, something low-key and fun. Another small step.
Possibly right from the frying pan into the inferno.
Dillon went back to the truck and grabbed a couple shovels. When he returned, he handed Bryan one and stuck the tip of his own in the packed earth. “You think it’s a possibility that you won’t get picked up?”
“Sure it’s a possibility. Football’s fucking competitive. You can’t hang, you get a helmet to the nuts for your trouble. We all know the score when we sign on the dotted line. Only a moron doesn’t have an alternative plan for the day the clock runs out.”
“What’s yours?” Dillon asked quietly.
Bryan gripped his shovel and fought the urge to hammer it into the dirt. That wouldn’t help anything. “Don’t have one.”
His buddy didn’t say anything for so long that Bryan figured the subject was tabled. They weren’t exactly emotive guys, and this conversation about equaled their longest in years.
Then Dillon said, “So what if I gave you one, working on the Helping Hands homes with me? Would you take it?”
Bryan cut a glance at his friend. “Huh?”
“Are you looking for an alternative plan? It’ll be open to you when and if. Or you can tell me to fuck myself, since you intend on hobbling across the field until you’re wearing dentures and hair plugs.”
“I’d shave my head first,” Bryan said absently, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.
“Might need to be done soon. You’re looking a little thin up top, boy.”
Bryan grinned and whipped the shovel through the air close to Dillon’s crotch, making him jump back. “Big mouth, slow reflexes. You’re lucky I didn’t lop that baby-maker of yours in two.”
“I’d like to see you try.” Dillon’s smile deepened. “Think about what I said, okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll think about it.” He had a feeling he’d be doing a lot of that over the next couple of weeks. “Thanks.”
“Nothing to thank me for. You’d be working harder than you ever have in your life. This isn’t chasing rawhide across Astroturf. By the end of the day, you’ll be one throbbing ache.”
“Already am, dude.” Jill had made sure of that.
“All right, let’s get the tree in the ground. I told Lex I’d stop by in a couple of hours to get some more plants and for an, ahem, coffee break. She’ll have my ass if I’m late.”
“Some separate spaces you got there, pal.”
“There’s a time to be separate and a time to be together.”
Bryan laughed behind his fist. “Good on Lex for keeping you in line.”
“You laugh now. One of these days, my man, you’ll know the sweet agony that is mine. I bet it’ll happen sooner than you think.”
Bryan swallowed his retort. Sweet agony, indeed, knowing that he’d already found the perfect woman for him…and he was going to have to let her go.
…
By Saturday night, Jill had reached one definite conclusion—some dates didn’t require anything but a bit of private time. Serving as proof, later on she would have date number four with Bryan. They’d discussed going to a late-night movie, but their latest plan involved another kind of performance. In her bedroom, all alone.
First, she had a Big Dipper to find.
“Who wants another hit?” Vic held up a bottle of champagne and gestured at the stars. “Alcohol will help all of you see it.”
Sprawled on her back on the blanket beside her best friend, Jill squinted up at the velvety black sky. The sprinkled stars didn’t look like anything to her but an explosion of diamond dust.
Though camping out on blankets on the snow-charred ground near the water tower in the center of town didn’t count as a traditional bachelorette party, it seemed to fit perfectly for Vic. She and her astronomy-crazy fiancé actually got their rocks off—sometimes literally—to star stuff, so Jill hadn’t questioned Vic’s decision for them to all meet outside. At least they were all clad in jeans and flannel-lined parkas. Add in the sentimental value that Vic had felt for the water tower since her high school sexual encounter here and it made a strange kind of sense.
“I don’t see anything dipping.” Based on Nellie’s hiccup, she was truly drunk. No wonder. First night out without either her baby or husband would prompt most women to go a bit wild.
“Patience, Noelle. Wait for the clouds to clear and all will be revealed. It’s like getting off. Delayed gratification is best.” Vic saluted her friend with the bottle she’d barely drunk from.
“Says the woman who’s getting off constantly.” Melinda’s grumble made Jill laugh.
“Jealous much, sis?”
“Why would I be? Sex isn’t that important. I am a lean, mean, green-making machine.” Melinda toasted them with her bottle of soda. There was no drinking for the uber-controlled Mel. Judging from the news that Mel was expanding her frozen-yogurt business yet again, clearly she wasn’t kidding about having her mind on her money.
“Who says you can’t have fabulous orgasms and a successful business?” Alexa pumped her wine cooler in the air, spilling some down her jacket. “I, for one, have no complaints in either department.”
“Those James/Santangelo boys have got their shit handled.” Vic fist-bumped Lex. Since Lex’s boyfriend Dillon was Cory’s brother, it wasn’t difficult to imagine why they were mutually triumphant.
> “No one likes a braggart, Victoria,” Mel tossed back, making them all laugh.
“What about you, Jill?” Noelle kicked at Jill’s purple suede boot. “You complaining or explaining?”
“Neither,” Vic chimed in before Jill could speak. “She’s got some new secret man-friend. All I know is he has a tongue like a salamander on speed and a dick like a jackhammer. Otherwise, nada.”
“Do tell.” Lex leaned forward eagerly. “After that night at Triple Threat, I would’ve guessed it was that hunky friend of Dillon’s.”
Jill shot up from her blanket. Had she and Bryan been spotted leaving the club together? “Dillon has lots of hunky friends.” She played it off with an inebriated-sounding giggle. Hopefully no one would notice she’d yet to finish half of her wine cooler.
“He had one with him in particular that night. Brownish-blond hair, tall, big shoulders that probably don’t fit through most doorways. Total jock material.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at Vic and Mel. “His name’s Bryan. He’s your brother. Shit, I am so drunk.”
Jill would’ve laughed at Lex’s melodramatic slumping back on the grass if Vic hadn’t been looking her way in obvious suspicion. “Bryan. My brother. Right.”
“Oh, him.” Jill laughed again, unease creeping through her as she pointedly turned her attention back toward Lex. “I’ve known Bryan forever.”
“Yeah, and you’ve been macking on him that long,” Vic put in.
“Macking?” Mel shook her head. “That sounds vulgar.”
Jill toyed with the label of her wine cooler. “I was pretty damn pristine until recently.”
Her life had changed via rough sex involving sex toys and blindfolds. Now they were adding role-play into the mix, and she loved that, too. She loved everything about being with Bryan, from their whispered conversations during the movies to holding hands while they walked to feeling his mouth on hers. In one week, she’d given herself over entirely to something that had been brewing for so long she couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t felt that way.
She loved Bryan Townsend. Hook, line, and she was sunk. Utterly.
