by Kendall Ryan
Somewhere between playing in high school and when I played in college, the fun went out of the game for me. I wasn’t sad at all for my football career to be over, and neither was my body, which had been battered and bruised through my entire adolescence. Not that I could ever share that with anyone in my hometown. That was akin to blasphemy in a football town. You either played football, or wanted to be playing.
“I want one of those giant pretzels,” Charlotte said. “I’m going to go now while everyone is watching this. There’s no line.”
I had to laugh at her indifference to the game. There we were in the middle of a nail-biter, and she wanted a pretzel.
“I’ll go with you,” I said, taking her hand in mine.
“You sure? Don’t you want to see what happens?”
“I’m good,” I told her as we stood up and headed down the bleachers. “I’ve seen enough football games to last me a lifetime.”
As we walked down the metal steps, she wrapped her free hand around my arm and pressed herself against my side.
“Is this how high school was for you?” she asked. “Friday-night lights and all that?”
“Yeah. Duke and I played. We even went to college on scholarship.”
“That’s awesome.”
“It was all right.” I shrugged. “Paid for college.”
“You miss it? All the hype? The attention?”
“Not really.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I half expected lightning to strike me where I stood.
“What about the cheerleaders? I’ll bet they were all over you.”
“There were a few,” I said with a chuckle. “I had some good times underneath these bleachers.”
“Is that right?”
A spark of jealousy flickered in her eyes, and before I could say another word, Charlotte tugged me underneath the bleachers, her pretzel forgotten.
Her lips were on mine before I could even register what was happening. The stomps and screams coming from above us grew louder with each tick of the clock, but all I could do was concentrate on the beautiful woman pressing her body against mine. Her lips and tongue were doing their damnedest to erase any memories of high school make-out sessions under the bleachers that might have been lingering in my head.
And it was working.
I grabbed one of the metal support rods above my head and steadied us as I wrapped the other arm around her waist. You’d think after our morning with the maple syrup, she would have had her fill of me, but here we were, making out under the bleachers like two sex-starved teenagers.
“You forget about them yet?” She smirked at me when we finally broke for air, both of us trying to catch our breath.
“Baby, they were never even a memory.” I dropped a last quick kiss on her lips. “Now, let’s get that pretzel and get the hell out of here.”
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte
The crowd thundered overhead as Luke grabbed my hand, pulling me to the edge of the bleachers where people were already pouring from the stands.
“Shit,” he mumbled. “Game must be over.”
“Does that mean the concession stand is closed?”
He laughed when my stomach grumbled. “How is that even louder than the people around us?”
I shrugged. “Special talent, I guess.”
Luke led me by the hand as we blended into the crowd, weaving through the mass of people heading back to their cars. Here and there, I caught people looking at him from the corner of their eyes, their expressions half-adoring, half-confused—probably because they were trying to make out which twin he was.
Our earlier conversation about football came to mind. He’d really downplayed it, I knew, but it had to be no small thing to get a full ride to college, especially for a school as high profile as A&M. And in a town like this? It would likely make him some kind of god. Still, he took it in stride, smiling at the people around him and ignoring their grins of approval and adoration.
“What happened after college?” I asked when we finally made it through the thick of the crowd.
The concession stand was just in front of us, and Luke pivoted to look at me.
“What?”
“You said you went to A&M for college. What did you do after that? I mean, what did you major in? Did you always want to run the distillery?”
His face twisted for a minute, but as we came to the front of the little snack shack, he smiled and waved at the girl behind the counter who was tossing out the leftover hot dogs.
“Jill,” he said. “Hey.”
She blinked up at him, and when she realized who he was, she blushed. “Hey there.”
“Got any leftover pretzels, or did you toss those out already?”
She nodded and headed for the case where five giant golden-brown pretzels twirled on a silver rack. Taking a paper tissue, she grabbed one and held it out for him.
“Hell of a game,” she said. “Almost like when you were playing. ’Cept, of course, if you’d been out there, we would’ve won.”
She nodded toward the back wall, and my gaze followed hers to a row of framed jerseys. Okay, so apparently downplaying didn’t quite cover it.
Five jerseys hung from the white cinderblock wall, all displayed under a bright yellow light. In the very center were two that read “Wilder,” one I assumed with Luke’s number and the other with Duke’s.
“It was a great game. They gave it all they had,” Luke said, seemingly oblivious to my revelation. “What do I owe you?”
Jill shrugged. “On the house. Would’ve gone in the trash, anyway.”
We said our good-byes before joining the crowd still streaming to the parking lot. When I took a bite of the salty hot dough, Luke frowned at me.
“Don’t you want some mustard or cheese?”
“And sully the perfect taste of this pretzel? Not on your life.” I gave him a playful shove and took another bite, thinking over what to say next. I knew what I wanted to say.
Don’t take me back to the inn. Let me stay at your place tonight, and tomorrow night too. And then we can just go our separate ways and have this fun memory to take with us.
Still, it felt too forward. I couldn’t exactly invite myself into someone else’s home for the weekend, and even if I could . . . wasn’t that a little too serious for something that we both agreed was a fling?
“Charlotte?”
I shook my head, trying to recall what Luke had been saying, but it was no use. “Huh?”
“I said, can I give you a ride to the inn?”
“Oh, yeah, that would be great.” I followed him to his truck, listening to the chatter around us as people rehashed the game.
“What were we talking about?” he asked as he got behind the wheel.
I settled into the passenger seat. “I asked about college. What did you major in?”
“Business.”
“For the distillery?”
His face twisted into a frown. “Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, his profile and square jaw looking as fine as hell, even in the darkened interior of the truck. “I’ll tell you, but first you have to promise that you’re not the jealous type.”
“Jealous?” I laughed, but my stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
“You know what jealousy looks like. Promise me you can contain yourself.”
“I think I can manage.” I rolled my eyes, but secretly I was wishing I was anywhere else right now.
“I had actually gone to school for business because my girlfriend at the time wanted to open a high-end spa,” he explained.
I rose my eyebrows but said nothing.
“She was a real city type, and we had a plan to open her company in Dallas because that’s where the clientele was. But things didn’t work out that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“By the time
I graduated, the distillery was going under, and my dad was too. I had to come back home to lend a hand.”
I shot him a glance under my lashes, a twinge of pity sizzling through me at the pain in his voice. “And Duke did the same?”
Luke nodded. “No-brainer.”
“And what happened to . . .” I let the question hang in the air, studying Luke’s face as I waited for him to fill in the blank. He didn’t look pained anymore, but he didn’t look excited to be dredging it all up either.
“Sarah,” he finished for me. “She came back with me. For a while, at least. Like I said, she was the city type, and living in a small town—especially one where everyone already knew me—wasn’t her style.”
“I see.” I nodded. “That must have been hard for you. Taking on everything and—”
“Looks like we’re here.” Luke cut me off as he pulled in front of the inn.
I stared at it, stunned we’d gotten here so quickly. Why did time seem to fly by so quickly when I was with him?
“Okay then. Well, thanks for that and the pretzel,” I said, shaking it at him like a stick. “I had fun.”
I moved to push my door open and paused, sucking in a steadying breath before turning to face Luke.
“Do you want to come in for a while?”
Chapter Thirteen
Luke
Charlotte glanced from me to the inn and back again before tilting her head to the side, letting her silky hair cascade over her shoulder. “Don’t feel obligated or anything. I just thought I’d ask. No big deal.” Her cheeks went pink as she scrabbled for the door handle again.
“I’ll come in for a sec.” My groin went tight and I shrugged. “But only to help you pack,” I said softly.
She blinked in confusion, her mouth half-open. “What do you mean?”
I leaned closer and traced a finger over the line of her jaw. “Your car isn’t going to be fixed until Monday. It’s just plain silly for you to keep staying here when I’d rather have you in my bed.” I let out a low growl, leaning in to nip at her earlobe before pulling back.
She dropped the last bit of her pretzel into her lap and let out a nervous laugh. “Are you sure about that?”
I nodded. “Look, we both know the deal here. You’ve got to get back to your life and I’ve got to focus on the distillery, but for the rest of the weekend . . .” I shrugged. “I don’t see what’s stopping us from having a little fun. Don’t you like what we’ve been doing?”
Her eyes gleamed, and I guessed she was thinking—like I was—of the way I’d poured maple syrup all over her body that afternoon and lapped it up with my tongue. I was careful to ensure her nipples and the delicious spot between her legs were well and truly clean before I dragged her into the shower and lathered the rest of her body with shampoo.
“It’s been fun,” she said, sounding a little breathless.
“So, it’s settled. Let’s go get your stuff.”
She quirked her lips to the side before picking up her pretzel and pushing open her door. “Fine. I’ll grab my bag, but you stay here. I don’t want anyone seeing me leave with you and getting the wrong idea that I’m a woman of loose morals,” she said with a chuckle. “But I’m warning you, if you’re going to tease me like this, you’d better be ready to hurry back to your place and make good on those implied threats.”
“You got it.”
I grinned and watched her disappear behind the inn’s front door, my mind drifting to how she’d looked beneath the bleachers and in my oversized T-shirt this morning, compared to how she looked when she first got here.
There was no use in comparing, of course, but it seemed like there was something different about her now. Back when we first met, she was in hoity-toity, high-class New York mode. But under the bleachers, and in my bed, she wasn’t a duchess. She was just Charlie, laughing and pretty, and all mine.
But then, Sarah had been like that too.
And Charlotte would be going soon, just like Sarah did, but this time I had the advantage of knowing that in advance. I wasn’t serious about Charlotte like I’d been with my ex, and we both knew as much. So, as long as I kept my heart out of all this and just had fun, what was the big deal?
Molly had told me I worked too hard and needed a break. Maybe this was exactly what she meant—I needed a warm, sexy body to share my bed, someone I could have some laughs and unwind with, no strings attached. No harm, no foul.
Charlotte stepped out of the inn, suitcase in hand. I climbed out to help her with the bag, but she lugged it around the truck and shoved it inside with surprising speed. As we settled back into our seats and prepared to head back to my house, I sensed an odd disturbance in the air between us, a tension that hadn’t been there before.
Of course, it could have been because she was getting ready to spend the rest of the weekend with a man she’d only known for a few days, but something told me that wasn’t it.
Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Sarah earlier. Or maybe when I did, I should have turned to watch Charlotte’s expression to see exactly what she thought. If, of course, she had any thoughts about my ex at all. It had been so long ago, and my life had changed so much since then.
I cleared my throat. “Okay, so you know all about my life and my past. What about you?”
She reeled around to look at me. “Like what?”
“I told you about college and Sarah. You must have some story about—I don’t know—your debutante ball? The prince who asked for your hand in marriage?”
She blushed and looked out the window. “I didn’t have a debutante ball.”
“College then. You majored in marketing, right?”
“I did. Not much to know. I went to Sarah Lawrence. It was fine.” She shrugged. “End of story, really.”
“I doubt that. No guys in your life?” I raised my brows. “High school sweetheart who broke your heart?”
“I went to an all-girls school, but good try,” she shot back.
“Huh. I don’t know a single person in the world that ever stopped,” I said with a grin. “You don’t mean to sit here and tell me you gave your virginity to some random guy you met when your car broke down in Texas?”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I’ve had boyfriends, but that doesn’t mean they were anything interesting enough to talk about.”
“What was the last one like? What was his name?”
“Why? You the jealous one now, Luke?” She shot me a tight grin. “You gonna go fight him?”
I laughed. “Depends on how things ended. Was he mean to you?”
She turned to look out the window again. “His name was Prescott.”
This time I laughed even louder. “Are you for real?”
She blushed. “It was a family name.”
“Which means he was actually Prescott Moneybags the what? Fourth? Fifth?”
“Prescott Billingsley.” She cleared her throat and added under her breath, “The sixth.”
“Wow, the sixth.” I let out a low whistle. “So, he’s old money then. Big score.”
She frowned. “Like I said, nothing to write home about.”
“You mean to tell me your parents didn’t do a happy dance when you told them who you were dating?”
“Look, it’s not important.”
She rubbed her palms over her thighs, and I did my best not to roll my eyes.
“How did things end?”
Another heavy silence filled the cab of the truck, and she shifted in her seat. “It was fine. Things just didn’t work out. Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” she practically snapped, then smoothed a hand over her hair. “I’m sorry. You were so open. I shouldn’t—”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “It’s fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”
I couldn’t deny, though, that her replies intrigued me and sent my sixth sense tingling. While I wasn’t jealous, exactly, I was much more invested in h
er answers than I should have been.
This is a fling, Luke. Don’t forget it.
I gripped the wheel more tightly and turned my attention back to the road. “Look, I normally meet a couple of old friends at the bar after the game, but I can call and cancel if you’d rather not go—”
“No, don’t cancel. You had no way of knowing I’d be here, and I don’t want you to bail. That said, I’m really tired. Why don’t you just drop me off? I’ll get a nice up-close-and-personal look at that big claw-foot tub of yours, and have some popcorn. A nice little ‘me’ night.”
The image of her shimmering with water as she stood from the bathtub, her pearly-white skin free of a towel, made another rush of need surge to my cock, but I nodded all the same. Suddenly, I felt like I needed the space.
“Okay, if you’re sure. I won’t stay out long.”
“I’m sure.”
I dropped her off and headed for the bar, thinking about Sarah . . . and Prescott Billingsley the Sixth.
Prescott was exactly the kind of name for a guy like that. The ritzy New York royalty that she’d inevitably marry someday. Then, when they had their penthouse and she slid into their claw-foot tub, maybe she’d think about the one in my house and remember . . .
Or maybe not.
Either way, it didn’t matter. This thing we had? It had an expiration date stamped on it, and nobody was more okay with that than me. Charlotte was probably itching to get back to city life, and Lord knew I had enough to do with the distillery to keep me busy for another few years at least.
It was a shame, though. If she were something else, someone else . . . if she were the girl who’d pulled me beneath the bleachers earlier tonight? Well, I might have been able to fall in love with someone like that.
• • •
When I got to the Drunk Skunk, it didn’t take me long to find Case and Ranger already bellied up to the bar and waiting with a third beer in front of the empty stool beside them. As I made my way nearer, Case made a whooping sound and Ranger patted the stool.
“The prodigal quarterback returns,” Ranger said. “Why are you so late?”
“I had to grab Charlotte’s stuff and drop her off.”
