by Mona Cox
Danny Manning, my heart’s MVP.
40
Epilogue - Fiona
“Holy shit, he’s going to -- TOUCHDOWN!” Cody yells, jumping from his seat and brandishing one fist up in the air. I jump up too, and it seems that the whole stadium is going to erupt. The crowd roars like a giant monster, and I scream as loud as I can, a big smile on my face.
Danny ran through the defense like a hot knife through butter, cocked his elbow with clockwork precision and then sent the ball through the air in a perfect arch. It landed neatly into the wide receiver’s hands, and all he to do was dive into the end zone. Touchdown with five seconds on the clock, and the Nailers were down by three. And this is the big game - SuperBowl.
“I did it! I fucking did it! Danny shouts, running through the field and heading straight for me. He takes the strap off his helmet, lets it fall on the grass and then jumps over the barriers between the field and the seats. He grabs me with his big hands, pulling me into his arms and crushing his mouth against mine. “I did it, babe!” He cries out, an expression of pure ecstasy on his face.
“I knew you would,” I tell him, kissing him back. “Now go get that trophy - you earned it.” With a wink and a smile, he gets down onto the field again, and assumes his position for the mandatory five seconds left.
The MILFs try to make a miracle, but it’s too late for them. The referee call it in, and everyone goes completely crazy. I wave my Nailers’ flag up in the air, grinning like crazy as the whole Nailers team congregates in the middle of the field, two big guys grabbing Danny and carrying him on their shoulders.
The Nailers comeback is one for the history books - they took a mighty beating during the first half of the game, and then they completely destroyed everyone in their during the last twenty minutes. And all thanks to whom? Danny Manning, of course - the best player in the league, and my man.
Working like crazy, the stadium workers set up a stage in the center of the field, and a parade starts as the Nailers line up on the stage, eager to get their hands in the big prize. Two scantily clad women bring the trophy onto the stage, and they head straight to Danny.
I can almost see the excitement in his eyes as he curls his fingers around the trophy’s handles. He raises the trophy into the air and the crowd roars once more, chants of Danny! Danny! echoing through the stadium.
Someone shoves a mic into Danny’s hands, and the chants die a little as everyone wants to hear what the Nailers’ savior has to say. Do you want to know what his first word is?
“FIONA!” He cries out, looking straight toward me. “Get down here!” He says, and the cameras focus on, my confused face showing on the Jumbotron. “Get down here,” he repeats, and Kim pinches my arm.
“Go,” she whispers, and Cody pushes me up to my feet. I climb down the barriers clumsily with the help of two police men, and then I start making my way toward the stage, suddenly feeling as if I’m at the center of the universe, every single pair of eyeballs in the States watching me.
The moment I’m close enough to Danny, he laces my waist with one arm and pulls me into him. “This here,” he raises the trophy in their with one hand, “I owe to this woman.”
The crowd claps and shouts, and it takes almost a minute for the commotion to die down.
“But you know what?” Danny continues. “Although I wanted this trophy for a long, long time… Now that I have it, I discovered that I had already won the big prize - Fiona’s heart.”
He passes the trophy to one of his teammates and then turns to me, looking me straight in the eyes. I look back at him, not knowing what to say - or how to say it -, and then he does something I wasn’t expecting at all.
He goes down on his knees.
“Will you marry me, Fiona?” He asks me, his words echoing through the stadium as someone hands me him a small velvety box. He snaps it open, and an enormous diamond ring gleams inside.
The whole stadium has gone silent, and the only thing I can hear right now is the steady pulse of my heart. I open my mouth to speak, and I feel salty tears rolling over my lips. God, I’m crying.
“Yes! Yes, I will!” I cry out, going down to my knees in front of me and kissing him. “I will marry you, Danny Manning…” I whisper, trying to choke down a sob. I don’t think I’ve ever been happy enough to start crying, but here it is - I’m a whimpering mess of happiness right now.
The stadium erupts in a chant, the sound so deafening I can’t even make out what everyone’s screaming. Right now, the whole States - if not the world - is seeing Danny propose to me and slip his diamond ring into my finger. And now the whole world also knows that I’m the happiest woman on Earth.
“Let’s get out of here,” Danny tells me, going up to his feet and picking me up from the floor. I place one arm around his neck and just hold tight onto him as he walks down the stage.
“Where are you going? You need to be here for the celebration, Danny!” The league’s commissioner starts to say, rushing down the stage and following after us. Without even bothering to slow down, Danny’s reply is a quick one.
“We’re going to do our own celebration,” he says, looking back over his shoulder at the commissioner.
“I love you,” I tell him as he walks inside the stadium’s tunnel entrance.
“I love you too,” he whispers, the long shadows inside the tunnel wrapping themselves around us.
Happy endings - the hype is real.
Carla Vs. Cowboy
I’m being totally serious when I say I’m gonna ride my cowboy into the sunset…
But does he like me?
I can’t tell.
Is he willing to go the distance?
He swoops in on his horse and rescues me whenever I get into trouble. But will he stick around?
Or will he just go off one morning.
He’s not like any other guy I’ve ever met.
I mean, he’s a cowboy. In New York City. That alone makes him unique, ya know?
All I know is that if he stays, then he’s my lobster.
I would be so freakin’ happy. It’s no question I’d ride on his “saddle” all day till the sun goes down. And straight through to sunrise. And then sunset again.
Geez…I'd need a horse after that because I won’t be able to walk.
*** It's the cute single girl versus the cowboy in this seventh installment from Mona Cox. Guaranteed to be sweet, sassy, steamy, and fun. No cheating or cliffhangers. Happily Ever After? Always, babe ***
Dedicated to chopped liver. She knows who she is…
Dirty Lil’ Angels
Hi ladies!
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41
Carla
I sip my Long Island Iced Tea, glancing out over the city. Even though it isn't nighttime, and really, that's when 230 5th Avenue is the most breathtaking, the view is still awesome. Who wouldn't love sitting in a rooftop garden, the city stretching out in every direction?
Can I just say, it’s way cooler than listening to Lisa and Ashley drool over their boyfriends, and their ginormous engagement rings that astronauts are probably checking out right now. I have to wonder if they’re going to get armed guards to follow them around and protect them from thieves. Those fuckers are massive.
I’m not jealous … just a little worried about someone jabbing an eye out. I mean, talk about a safety hazard!
Not able to stand another minute of their gushing, I finally blurt out, "So I went out on a date last night!" They quit comparing engagement rings long enough to turn and look at me.
Finally.
"It was a bust, though," I admit, taking another sip of the tea, letting the punge
nt alcohol soothe my nerves. Really, who could expect to be happy after such a date?
"Awww ... honey. What happened?" Ashley takes a sip of her drink, her ring flashing in the sunlight. We were under an umbrella, blocking out direct sunlight, and of course I had on my Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, but still, the light seemed damn bright to me.
I ignore it. I can't exactly ask Ashley to take off her ring—her symbol of her undying, eternal love for her CEO. Blech. How boring is that? I can't imagine loving a CEO. I might as well fall in love with a banker.
I am not falling in love with a banker.
"Well, I met him at Flash Factory – you know, that dance club over on West 28th Street? Anyway, he was pretty hot and heavy with me all night, bragging about how big his dick was, and then we go back to my place, and ... you guys." My voice breaks with disgust. "His dick was three inches long! I've never seen such a pathetic thing in my life!"
They just bust up laughing and the alcohol in the Long Island Iced Tea allows me to relax enough to laugh, too. It's funny. Now. Twelve hours later.
At the time? Not so much.
"So he's one of those real dicks–" they start laughing again so hard, I have to shout over them, "who won't even go down on a girl," and of fucking course, they stop laughing abruptly, trying to hear what I'm saying, so I end up shouting that into the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. Everyone stops.
Dead silence.
All eyes on me.
I close my eyes, doing my best ostrich imitation, but only if an ostrich can turn about seven shades of red.
What.
Ever.
Finally, the restaurant employees and customers resume their own lives, chatting, and laughing, and working, and my eyes spring open. Leaning forward, I shout whisper, "So he's refusing to go down on me, and I'm not about to touch that ... thing, so there we are in bed, and like, what the fuck was I supposed to do with him then? I threw him out, told him not to come back, and then I had to finish the night with a good round of Slick."
"Slick?" Ashley asks, befuddled. "Who's Slick?"
"My 8-inch dildo, remember?" I say, reminding her. We'd all gone dildo shopping together. She'd been there when I'd bought my best friend. Surely she remembers.
"Oh, right! I forgot. I haven't used mine in so long; I forgot about him. What did I name him...?" She's staring off into space, trying to remember, and all I want to do is throw my drink at her head. I mean, not that I'd waste a perfectly good drink like that, but c'mon. Did she have to rub it in?
"My outlaw's dick is ... perfect," Lisa sighed happily. "Have I showed you the picture of it yet?" She digs out her phone and flips through it, looking for the pic in question. I have to admit, I want to see it, if only to give myself something to fantasize about tonight.
"Roger!" Ashley finally says excitedly.
I swing my head to look at her, the whole world moving a little more than it probably should've with that movement – damn iced tea – and stare.
"What?" Even Lisa is staring at her.
"Roger! That's what I named my dildo," she says triumphantly.
"Who names their dildo 'Roger'?" I demand. "That is the least imaginative name on the planet!"
She just shrugs. "I'd just met a hot guy named Roger. I mean, nothing like Apollo, but he was cute. I figured it was just as good as any name."
I just look at her skeptically. It most definitely is not as good as any name. It is an awful name. It's a horrendous name. It's a terrible name. She should be ashamed of that—
"Here it is!" Lisa held her phone out and waggled it at me. "Look! I told you he was huge."
Oh.
My.
God.
There is no way a cock like that fits inside a person.
I mean, I'm sure how huge her screen is doesn't help anything, but even that aside ...
"He's a monster," I breathe, staring endlessly at the screen. I can't tear my eyes away. It's mesmerizing ...
She pulls it back to stare down at it with a naughty grin, and I could just see she is replaying their last fucking in her mind. Eeewww...I love Lisa and all, but I really don't want to think about her fucking. There are some things I just don’t want in my head, KWIM?
I push away from the table.
"I gotta head out," I slur, and kissing Ashley and Lisa on the cheeks, I take the elevator to the main floor, which totes messes with my stomach; have you ever been drunk on an elevator? You feel like you're flying—and then out onto the street. I hesitate for a minute, trying to decide whether to text for an Uber or walk home, and finally decide to hell with it, I'll go for a walk. It's a damn nice day – not muggy or cold or windy or snowing, which has to be some sort of New York City weather miracle – so I might as well enjoy it, right? Plus, it'll give me a chance to burn off some of this alcohol.
Home, in Turtle Bay, is like 30 blocks away, so I guess it's a good thing I'm wearing my Tieks instead of stilettos, right? I take off down the street toward Grand Central, enjoying the bustle of New Yorkers passing me – god, I really am drunk if I'm waxing on about how pleasant I find other New Yorkers – when suddenly, someone runs smack into the back of me.
"What the fuck?" I slur-yell, my Louis Vuitton purse swinging and then it's gone from my arm! Some punk ass kid with a black hoodie pulled up over his head is taking off down the street with my precious Louis Vuitton!
I take off running after him.
"Stop! You goddamn thief, come back here!"
I should probably save my breath so I can run faster, but shit, I can't keep quiet. That man just stole my fucking purse!
As I run, my drunk legs wobbling underneath me with every step, I suddenly hear weird noises. Like, it's New York City, right? I'm used to noises. But this ... this isn't something I've ever heard before.
My head whips around just in time to see...
A cowboy on a horse come tearing past me, a lasso spinning above his head.
How drunk am I?
42
Chase
"God, are they ever going to show up?" Jason asks, hooking a boot as he leans up against the horse trailer. "Finding a parking spot here in New York is fucking insane, and I'm pretty sure the meter maid is going to notice us soon. We either need to keep going or someone needs to show up."
I nod my agreement, but didn't really have much else to say. Jason's always the one to chat a lot. Me? I just like to take it all in.
Speaking of taking it in ...
I admire the ass on a girl as she goes walking by, blonde hair swinging with every step. Damn, she's fine. Are all New York girls that fucking hot? I'm never leaving New York if that's the case.
I just start to look back at Jason – never a good idea to openly leer at a girl – when something catches my eye. I look back just in time to see some guy in a black hoodie deliberately run into the back of Sexy New York Girl, jostling her purse loose, and then taking off with it.
She's running down the street, yelling her head off, and all I can think is, I can't just let that jackass steal from a lady!
So, I use the tools I have in my disposal. What else is a cowboy to do?
Meaning, I pull the ramp out with one quick move, bumping into the mass of humanity that is New York as I back up, pulling it out to set it on the ground.
"Sorry, sorry," I toss over my shoulder as people curse a blue streak. I feel bad, but I can't let that stop me. Sexy New York Girl needs me!
"What the hell are you doing?" Jason asks, bewildered, as I rip the door open to the back of the horse trailer, grab the halter of Moonshine, and back him down the ramp. I clip reins into place; if I'm going to ride bareback, I should at least have reins, and grab my coiled lasso from the hook on the inside of the horse trailer.
"I've got a girl to save," I say, maneuvering over to the side of the horse trailer so that I can use it as a step stool to get up onto him. Moonshine whinnied in alarm; he and I don't exactly ride bareback all that often, let alone in the streets of New York, but I gave
him a quick pat on the neck. "Whoa, boy. It's okay. It's gonna be okay."
I swing my leg over, grab the reins, and take off down the street, letting the sheer size of Moonshine do the work of clearing a path for us. Do you know how loud hooves with horseshoes on them are on concrete?
Hint: Real loud.
I squeeze my knees against Moonshine's flanks, working to keep my balance, but Moonshine of course just takes that as encouragement to gallop faster.
I whip past the girl, tossing a "I'll be back!" over my shoulder as we go thundering down the sidewalk, and finally spot black hoodie jackass. I start spinning my lasso in the air, whirling it as I judge speed and distance and wind direction and then, I let it fly.
Jackass flies to a stop at the end of the rope, his arms pinned to his side, flailing at the restrictions. He loses his balance and topples over onto his side, looking for all the world like an upside-down turtle.
I jump off Moonshine and he jerks to a stop, this part of the ride working like it always does. Usually, we're roping cattle, but today, I guess we're just roping bad guys instead. I know that Moonshine won't move an inch while I work to tie up the bad guy. I can hear people around me, either calling it into 911 or taping me on their phones, and I just know that I'm gonna hit the evening news.
Well hell, maybe more people will show up for the Madison Square Garden rodeo then, right? A bigger crowd is never a bad thing.
I trot on over to Jackass and pull the purse out of his hands.
"Slow down there, Paco," I tell him, holding my hands up toward him, trying to calm him down. "It's gonna be fine. Why don't you just sit there for a minute while the men in blue work their way over to–"
