by Rie Warren
“I never would.”
“Even if I said I figured out you always wanted me?”
Calder spun away. “You can’t say that.” He pounded a wall. “Fuck’s sake!”
“Am I wrong?”
Head hanging, he wheeled toward me. “You’re my friend.”
I gulped. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
After lifting my face, Calder searched my eyes. “Is that what this is all about?”
“No. Never.” I blinked at him. “You read his last emails. You know Chris was in a dark place. That shouldn’t be you too. It doesn’t have to be you too.”
“So I’m another person you need to save.”
“You’re such an egotistical asshole!” I stomped away, about to hit the stairs when Calder drew me back into his arms.
“You got me pegged.” He chuckled.
“Don’t you dare laugh.” I sniffled against his neck, wrapping my arms around warm, live, man. “I wasn’t a good enough military wife. Maybe if I had been, Chris’d be alive.”
“No. Hell no.” Calder crushed me to him. Rocked me in his embrace. “You ever take that blame on yourself again and I’ll be really pissed.”
I felt the silent wracking of his body as he covered my head with his hand.
He’d never let go of Chris. Never mourned. Always lived with guilt he could’ve done more.
And now I understood he thought he was responsible in some weird way for wanting me for his own.
Guilt was toxic. Shame poisonous.
No wonder he’d turned to drugs.
The big clasp of his arms loosened, and he dried tracks of tears he didn’t ever want me to see.
So young. So old.
So honorable.
“I have to get to practice.”
“I hope so, flabby.”
“You did not just say that.” Calder, back in control, coiled back.
“Seems you got a little extra here.” I pinched his ass, and he yelped, smacking my hand away.
“Bullshit.” He picked up his gym bag.
“Really?”
His eyes glimmered, frost melting. Then he handed me a visitor’s pass to the Carolina Crush Stadium. “You’ve been vetted.”
“So you want me to watch you practice?”
Wide shoulders filling the doorway, he turned back. “Up to you, sweetheart.”
“And it’s okay if I’m still here when you get back?”
He hit me with a sudden searing look that made my legs wobble. “I’d track you down if you weren’t.” His eyes scanned up and down my body, pooling warmth settling between my legs. “P.S. I know you turned up the thermostat while I was out running, desert rose.”
“Maybe I like it hot.”
“I’m sure you do.” He left with a wink.
He left me completely breathless.
Chapter Nine
Afternoon . . . Delight
Reggie
I FINISHED MY BREAKFAST, cleaned out the coffee pot, and tidied the kitchen after Calder had gone. The visitor’s pass rested next to the toaster, teasing me. I’d never been to one of Calder’s practices. That hadn’t been my place, not when Chris was alive.
It was hard to know when to stop mourning. When to start living.
I hoped I could show Calder the way while I found my path, too.
Those little glimpses of humor, the thoroughly hot male hunger, the dedication to the game so pronounced once again made me think perhaps we had a chance after all.
I showered—in his bathroom, impishly setting out my toiletries: shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, lotion, and makeup. All the girly things. Scents he’d recognize from my body.
I was ready to cross any line he put up, as long as I knew he wanted me one hundred percent.
After dressing in jeans, flannel shirt, boots, and a warm vest, I drove to the grocery store I’d passed on the way in yesterday. Realizing Calder had bought breakfast from the deli next door, I clocked the mileage. A mere ten-mile roundtrip run at the crack of dawn. No damn wonder his glutes were so mouthwatering. The smug man was right of course, there was no spare flesh anywhere on his body.
Except for what I expected was a very large cock.
I shuddered at the thought of finally seeing him naked sometime very, very soon.
At his house I unpacked the groceries, loading the cabinets, pantry, fridge, and freezer. Before leaving again, I primped for just a moment.
The orgasm after months of going without had done me good. My mouth was no longer drawn, my eyes brighter, my lips ripe as if I’d been kissed all night.
I navigated to the Carolina Crush practice grounds effortlessly, taking in some of the famous downtown Charleston scenery. The historic city dolled up for the Christmas season certainly was pretty as a southern picture. Full of charm and history just as Vegas was hot, flashy, and fluorescent.
I was let into the arena with just a glimpse at the pass he’d given me, but after parking I sat for a moment in the rental. I hadn’t intended to spy on Calder.
Completely unsure of myself—something I conquered regularly as a performer—I walked out of the facilities toward the field. Players huddled in various groups. Some threw strong-armed passes to receivers. Others folded down to one knee, listening to one of the coaches. Massive men drove training sleds across the turf, bodies rippling with power.
A Reno Ravens girl at heart, I could maybe change my stripes for Calder and Carolina Crush.
“Hey!”
I turned toward a woman—a gorgeous redhead who managed to look regal even in red and white workout gear—coming down the sideline.
“You’re . . . Regina? From Vegas, right?”
“Yes.” I held out my hand. “Peyton Fox?”
She shook my hand firmly. “Yes! We met at The Venetian. Calder told us you might stop by.”
I was hugely flattered to be greeted by the owner of Carolina Crush. As soon as she picked up Calder and hired him, I’d checked her out. Youngest owner in the history of the NFL, the only female holding the singular prestige, married just a couple weeks ago to the quarterback, she had some mighty big balls.
She leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “Between you and me? He looked a little nervous about the prospect you might drop in. But I promised not to humiliate him in front of you.”
My belly fluttered at the thought Calder wanted to perform his best for me.
“I’m so glad he has family here finally. He’s been amazing. Keeping up with his NA meetings, solidly clean, and as you’ve no doubt seen, a star on the field. But he needs . . . an anchor.”
Before I could respond, Peyton grabbed my arm. She drew me along until we joined a small circle including a tall, extraordinarily gorgeous, Grace Jones lookalike.
“Regina this is my friend, Philomena. Dr. Phil for short, and yes, she really is a PhD and a total PITA.”
The black woman rolled her eyes. “Pain in yo ass? Please. I had to walk you kicking and screaming down that wedding aisle so you’d finally make an honest man out of Rafe.”
“You’re such a damn liar.” Peyton’s eyes narrowed but her smile grew. “She’s Coach D’s daughter so she gets a free pass to come ogle the eye candy whenever she wants.”
“And I’m talkin’ about the Cougars. Not the Crush,” Phil added.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m—”
“Well, aren’t you a sweet drink of water. Regina. The dancer from Vegas everyone’s been talkin’ about. Calder’s girl. Daaaamn. I knew he had some taste hiding somewhere.”
“I forgot to tell you Phil is all up in everyone’s business 24-7,” Peyton remarked dryly.
“Girl, you got hitched so I need to seek my thrills elsewhere.” Phil turned to me, dark brown eyes dancing. “And I happened to catch one of your shows. You need to show me some of those moves.”
“Anytime. I’m here for a week or so. Trying to talk Calder into going home for Christmas.” A dark emotion crossed my heart, and I saw it reflected in P
eyton’s eyes.
She’d clearly been rooting for him, looking out for him.
“He’s over there.” Peyton pointed to the middle of the field.
Calder hunkered down low, balanced like a fulcrum, holding his weight in his core instead of his heels or the fingertips as he waited to make the all-important snap.
“You know, the new iPhone has amazing zoom on the camera.” Phil winked, nudging my shoulder.
“Oh, I’m not . . . I’m his sister-in-law. Or, I was.” For some reason, words tumbled from my mouth. “We were friends first though, Calder and me.”
“Divorced?” she asked.
“No. Widowed. His brother died. KIA.”
Without a word, Phil pulled my hand into hers. She nodded silently, just clasping my fingers.
“But there’s more than that between you and Calder now?”
“I haven’t . . . He’s just important to me. I’ve known him since forever . . . I just wanted to make sure he was doing okay out here.” I stumbled to a stop.
“Mm hmm.” Phil’s tone was kind.
Something wormed its way inexorably into my heart. A soft glow that spread to my extremities, to the hand Phil held although she’d met me mere minutes ago.
Peyton, who’d been silent during our exchange, suddenly gasped.
Both of us turned to her.
Her hand pressed to her mouth. Her face pale white, she raced away.
“Shouldn’t we go after her?” I asked. “Make sure she’s all right?”
“Trust me. Rafe will be over here in five seconds flat.”
“But—”
“Morning sickness. Psst.” Phil checked her watch. “At three o’clock. Heteros and the breeding compulsion.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.”
“You playing for the pink team now?”
I raised a brow, delighted by her quick wit and charming unexpected flirtation. There’d been such a dearth of fun in my life. “Unfortunately not.”
“I know, I know.” She shook her head. “There’s my wishful thinking again.”
Rafe Macintyre stormed up, the famous NFL quarterback. “She sick again?”
“Yup. And it’s all your fault.”
He took off at a run after his wife.
“Told ya.” Phil grinned. “And this is only the first trimester. I been with her when the cankles happen. Still, since I’m honorary auntie to her kids, I’m here to hold her hand when Rafe isn’t.”
On the field, the Carolina Cougars broke from their practice, and I noticed one woman, in particular, saunter up to Calder as he scooped a sports drink from a cooler. The one who was handsy, who had gleaming coffee-toned skin and definite designs on Calder.
Oh, yes, I remembered her.
“If looks could kill. Mmm hmm.”
I tore my glare away from the pair farther down the sidelines. “What?”
“Girl, trust. I’ve been around long and often enough—to drool over the cheerleaders, the Cougars, and the Crush—to know Calder ain’t interested in that Raquel. Now, she’s a straight-up sweetie, but he hasn’t been up in that. And from what I’ve been hearin’ he only has his eyes set on one woman.”
As she said it, Calder’s gaze crossed the field, coming to a full stop on me.
Phil tugged my hand in hers. “C’mon. Meet and greet. One of the perks of being the head coach’s daughter.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Oh hell to the no with that,” Phil cajoled. “That man there has been performing better and harder just knowing you watched him.”
Harder.
Jesus.
Still, I wasn’t above taking my earrings off and getting in this Raquel’s face, though, to stake my claim.
I’d been there first.
Chapter Ten
Not Playing the Field
Calder
I’D NOTICED JUST THIS morning Reggie had moved her wedding rings to her right hand. Denoting her status as a widow. No longer married. The fact she’d switched her rings between the time I’d seen her in Vegas and her visit here made me wonder. That symbolic gesture—combined with her words spoken earlier that still had me reeling—seemed significant.
Life is meant to be lived.
But maybe I was just reading into shit.
I couldn’t believe Reggie might want to be with me. She was too good to be with me after I’d been so bad.
Too unattainable. She represented redemption I didn’t deserve, a love I shouldn’t want.
And we had way too fucking much history standing between us.
But I was immediately aware of her presence when she turned up on the field. It was like a lightning zap to my body.
The hair on my forearms rose.
Chills shivered down my back even though I’d worked up a good sweat all practice long, drill after drill.
I knew her gaze remained riveted on me. Her careful attention was a shock to the system. I only glanced at her once—the long dark waves of hair, the soft plump curves of her lips, the still calm of her body, a body I wanted all over me so much it goddamn hurt.
Not only was she here, but she’d been instantly herded up by Peyton . . . and Phil. Coach D’s forthright daughter. The doctor of the family who had no qualms about taking just about anyone down a notch or two or three. And she certainly didn’t miss a single freakin’ opportunity to hit on anybody she deemed worthy of her attention—man or woman.
Those two women better be attesting to the fact I hadn’t done anything corrupt, committed any crimes, or accepted any come-ons since joining the Crush in South Carolina.
Miraculously, my broken concentration snapped back online, and I became completely focused when Coach Frank started shouting out the next round of leg-burning, muscle-bruising, hard-driving maneuvers. He didn’t even seem to give a shit about my bruised ribs. Angela the physio must’ve signed off on me.
None of that mattered during the next half hour of complete sweat-inducing physical exertion. With Reggie watching, I was immediately grounded.
Coach D blew his whistle at about the time I felt like I might need to have an oxygen tank delivered on the field to reinflate my lungs. “Ten minutes. Then reconvene in the conference center. Big game tomorrow, and if you fuck it up, consider all y’all’s contracts null and void.”
“Aw, Coach. Why you gotta be so mean?” That was Akoni, the huge softie.
“’Cause if I’m not that means you have to face Peyton.” He tweaked the bill of his baseball cap. “And trust. That’s one boss you don’t wanna disappoint when she’s pregnant.”
“Word,” Marquis muttered. Father of two, he knew all about the demands of a knocked-up wife.
Moments later, while I mopped my face and drew in deep breaths between swigs of water, Reggie appeared by my side.
“You work this hard every day?” She slid an arm around my waist for a quick hug.
I probably stank to high heaven, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“I know you practice just as much for Rouge.” I winked at her before turning her to the group. “Hey guys, remember Reggie? She’s staying with me for a bit.”
Son of a bitch, as soon as Bunyan’s eyes lit up and Buckley licked his lips and Deacon Cross gave his own approving look, I knew all those men definitely remembered Reggie. Up on stage. Beneath the hot lights. Flexible. Gyrating. Dancing. Singing in a blues-inspired voice. In the barely there costumes.
Immediately possessive, completely obsessed, I snagged Reggie’s free hand while she shook those of the other dudes.
At least I didn’t have to worry about Brooklyn. The man was set to marry Delaney and knew all about the possessive-jealous thing.
Deacon Cross let her hand go, then Delaney appeared—fresh from her Cougars work-out.
The golden-eyed woman assessed Reggie with a smile on her lips. “So glad to meet you finally.” She took Reggie’s hand. “Calder came to Thanksgiving at Brooklyn’s, but I could tell he missed family.”
I groaned.
Delaney winked at me.
Reggie blushed, her cheeks almost apple-bright. “I missed him too.” Then she turned a scathing look on me, one tempered by the bright sparks in her depthless eyes. “But he’s still in trouble for not returning my phone calls.”
“Dude, if I had a broad like that—” Buckley didn’t even get to finish that thought because Deacon dragged him away, one huge hand muffled over Luke Buckley’s infamous Big Mouth.
“That was Buckley,” Delaney whispered. “We’re still trying to housetrain him.”
Reggie laughed, one of those sultry sounds that made the hair on my forearms stand on end.
“Believe me, in my line of work I’ve known a few of those from time to time, too,” she admitted.
Raquel glided over for another fuck-my-life moment. Before she could open her mouth with one more very clear invitation to hook up, Delaney shot her close friend a look.
Reggie slipped her hand free of mine and met Raquel head on.
All the gathered men stilled, because they all knew Raquel had been after my jock since Day One. The team watched the showdown like they were about to get some free girl-on-girl porn action.
“Raquel, right?” Reggie’s naturally red lips parting with an easy smile. “I have to say, I’ve been watching Delaney and you and the Cougars. My Lord, you are talented as hell.”
Raquel blinked.
Shit, we all blinked.
Then she extended her hand, which was met just as easily by Reggie. “Girl. Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I caught the Rouge show in Vegas, and I didn’t even know a woman could move like that.”
And suddenly it was like they were BFFs. The Cougar who’d been lightly chasing my ass for months and the woman I’d been dreaming about for years.
I tuned back in to the guys, who weren’t nearly as thrilled as I was:
“Awww, man. They didn’t even show their claws.”
“I thought we were gonna get a catfight.”
“At least some hair-pulling.”
“I was waiting for the mud wrestling.”
