Mary felt tears pricking her eyes. “Thank you for doing … all of this,” she said.
“Better than just asking you to wear the ring?” He grinned cockily at her.
“Much.”
Nick set the paddles in the boat, and then knelt in the bottom of it, right in front of her seat. The boat rocked and Mary clung to the sides for a few seconds, hoping they wouldn’t tip. Nick’s eyes didn’t budge from her face as he smiled up at her. “Mary Coulter, I love you. Thank you for being there for me, for loving me. Will you please marry me and let me be there for you forever?”
Mary flung her arms around his neck and the boat responded more than she would’ve liked. It pitched violently before it settled. Nick grinned. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve got you.”
“Always?” she asked.
“Always.” His face got more serious as he lifted her left hand and kissed her ring finger before tugging the ring off his pinkie and slowly, seductively putting it on her ring finger.
Mary framed his face with her hands and kissed him. Anticipation of being married to him swirled through her, making her stomach warm and her body tingle. The kiss grew more intense and passionate. Mary’s head was feeling light, her body on fire. She could’ve sworn the whole world was rocking as another beautiful song started and Nick pulled her off her seat and against his chest as if he understood she only wanted to be closer to him.
The boat flipped and Mary screamed in surprise. Cold water enveloped her. Nick held on to her and quickly lifted her up out of the water. He stood with her in his arms, the water only up to his chest. Mary shivered and clung to him, checking quickly to make sure the ring was still on her finger. It glinted reassuringly in the sunlight.
“Uncle Nick!” Austin reprimanded, running for the shore. “You just messed it all up. Now she’ll be too cold for our romantic picnic.”
Nick easily pushed through the water and carried her toward the shore. He held Mary out of the water and water streamed down both of their faces and from their soaked clothes. He looked incredibly handsome, but she was shivering too much to appreciate it.
“Naw, I planned on this.” Nick winked at her, all confidence and swagger.
“What?” Mary, Austin, and Will all said at once.
Nick carefully set her on the blanket, tugged his shirt off and dropped it on a rock. His impressive chest glistened with water droplets. He sat behind Mary, wrapped his arms and legs around her, and pulled the large blanket up around both of them. “Better?” he murmured in her ear.
“Yes,” she admitted, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. She glanced back over her shoulder. “You planned to dump us in the cold lake?”
Nick chuckled. “Sometimes you just have to roll with it, love.” He bent down and tenderly kissed her. Pulling back, he said, “Will, Austin?”
“Yeah?” the boys answered.
“I think we need to change the plan. You two go skip rocks while I warm Mary up, and then we can have our picnic.”
“Okay.” Austin sounded a little disgruntled as they turned and tromped down to the shoreline.
“Oh, and boys?” Nick called.
“Yeah, Uncle Nick?” Will answered for them.
“Whatever you do, don’t turn around.”
The boys both rolled their eyes and soon there was the sound of rocks splashing in the lake.
“Don’t turn around?” Mary murmured, cuddling in close to her future husband.
“I wouldn’t want to give Will a show, or Austin any ideas.”
“Ideas about what?”
Nick grinned. “How an expert kisser kisses his future wife.”
Mary laughed. Nick cut it off when he lifted her onto his lap, turned her slightly, and then his lips overtook hers. She didn’t complain. He was better than any expert kisser. He was hers, and that’s exactly what she wanted him to be.
Don’t Chase a Player
Chapter One
Stetson Strong waited with bated breath as the assistant coach of the Texas Titans read off who had made the cut. By his count, there was only one name left, and Stetson was currently in the wrong column of the cut list. There were no defensive end positions open, yet he still hoped. A lifetime of working toward one goal hinged on the next words from the assistant coach’s mouth.
“Trent Klein,” the assistant coach said with finality. “For the rest of you, thank you for being here the past two weeks.”
Stetson squeezed his eyes shut, avoiding the glances of those who’d made the cut and those who hadn’t. He was Stetson Strong, named the top defensive end in the Big Ten. Everyone assumed he’d be picked first round of the NFL draft. He hadn’t been picked first round, or any round, for that matter.
The truth was that there just weren’t any positions open for him or his talent set. It didn’t matter how hard he worked or how talented everybody thought he was; if a coach didn’t have a position, they didn’t have a position. His agent had insisted he hold out for a certain amount of money on a contract, and Stetson couldn’t count how many times he’d heard, “I understand you can’t accept a lesser contract, but maybe next year when someone retires or gets injured, I’ll have the position and the money to offer. We’d love to have you on our team someday soon.”
His agent and his trainer had worked with him through the end of his time at Purdue University, and throughout the first month of summer, all three of them had hoped and prayed that he’d get his shot. When the Titans had called and asked him to come for an “unofficial tryout” as a preferred walk-on the middle of June, he’d thought he’d found his spot, and holding out like he’d been advised had been a good idea.
Apparently, the answer to his NFL career hopes was still a no.
The room cleared, and he slowly stood and followed the other losers out. For his whole life, he’d been focused on football and his family—those were all that really mattered to him. Now he had to come to grips with the fact that he’d never fulfill his dreams of playing professionally. There might be other tryouts, other hopes, but he felt deflated and done. He didn’t want to go through more rejection.
His phone rang and he ripped it from his pocket, grateful for the distraction but wary about telling anyone that he’d failed, maybe for the final time. When he saw that Mama was calling, his heart sank. She was always so proud of him, thought he could do anything. One time, she’d asked him why he didn’t brag about himself. His response had been, “Oh, Mama, you brag enough for both of us.” She’d laughed and told him she’d keep bragging for him. How could he tell her? She’d be as crushed as he was. Maybe he shouldn’t tell her yet. He could travel home, be with the family, and break the news in person.
Stetson answered the call. “Mama.” His voice let out a telling tremble, and he cleared his throat, reminding himself that he was a twenty-three-year-old man. “How are you?”
“Stetson.” Her voice cracked, and then he could hear her stifle a sob.
He paused in the hallway, gripping his phone tight. “Mama? What’s wrong?”
“Can you get home?” She seemed to force each word out as if it ripped her vocal cords to even produce it.
“Of course. What’s happened?”
“Papa’s … gone.”
Stetson fell against the wall. Sliding to the floor, he buried his head in his hands and clung to the phone. “No,” he croaked. “No!” His papa had been paralyzed twelve and a half years ago and had dealt with different health issues since then. They had scare after scare, mostly with pneumonia and heart issues, but … he couldn’t be gone.
Darkness threatened to smother him. He’d lost football, and now he’d lost his papa. He should’ve spent all this time with family after college graduation, but he’d wasted it working out and trying to be ready for this tryout. He’d been selfish, and he hated himself for it.
“I’m coming, Mama,” he muttered.
“Thank you, love. Call me when you know your plans. We’ll meet you at the airport.”
“Oka
y. Love you.”
“Love you.”
There was so much to say, but neither of them wanted to say it. He clung to the phone, even though his mom wasn’t there any longer. He’d failed his family, his papa, and himself. Football had been his life, and family had been second. He knew now. He’d chosen wrong.
Stetson gritted his teeth through the funeral, enduring condolences for his father and questions about which NFL team he was going to play for. He didn’t have a good response for either. The only bright spot was his family. His siblings were all married now, and Gavin and Kari, Cassie and Trey, and Ella and Jed all had children. He loved the crazy boys Will and Austin, fourteen and twelve and in charge of the whole world; the sweetheart, beautiful six-year-old Izzy; and the adorable baby Tate. Heath’s wife, Hazel, and Gavin’s wife, Kari, were also expecting, Kari with twins. He imagined that Nick and Mary would have children soon as well.
And Austin, his little brother turned nephew, was a force all his own. The rambunctious little man had as much energy and clever banter as the rest of them put together. The number of his girlfriends had doubled since Stetson left for college, along with his determination to either be the next Jag Parros or the next Stetson Strong. The little guy wouldn’t even listen to the fact that Stetson wasn’t going to play at the next level. Man, Stetson adored that kid, and he hated that someday he’d comprehend that his uncle had failed.
Even when surrounded by his entire family, Stetson felt lonely. He was empty and without goals. A loser. His siblings had been busy, so he’d been able to evade most of their sympathy and questions about his future. Everybody else had fabulous careers, charities they supported or created, and a spouse who adored them. Stetson had nobody.
As they gathered at the church for a dinner with family and friends after the graveside service, he glanced over at Mama, who was consoling someone else. The service had been beautiful and everyone had sung his father’s praises, and now Mama was alone. Stetson needed to stop being selfish and focus on Mama. She’d need him now. He was the only one who didn’t have other responsibilities and could be there for her.
Yet as he watched her, he suspected Mama was stronger and more with it than he was. She’d held him close as he’d explained that he wasn’t going to play in the NFL, told him he’d find his path, and told him how proud she was of how hard he’d worked for his dream. Yet what did hard work matter if the dream never came true? She’d also gently reminded him of all he’d learned through the path: hard work, perseverance, and dealing well with setbacks. He grunted to himself. He wasn’t dealing well with anything. Either he had Mama fooled, or—more likely—she was trying to talk him into believing he was going to be okay.
He shoved a hand through his hair and walked outside. An older truck pulled up to the church, and two men languidly got out. Stetson narrowed his eyes. Good and bad memories rushed back at the sight of these two rednecks.
The taller one, Judd, raised a hand in greeting, “Stetson, bro! You’re home. How’s football?”
Stetson met them in the parking lot and shook their hands. “Judd. Tyler. How are you guys?”
“Getting by,” Tyler said. He was almost as thick as Stetson, and none of it was fat. “Which team did you commit to, then?”
Stetson forced a smile. Didn’t anyone in this town have Google? “None. I’m moving home to take care of Mama and figure out what I want to do. What are you two up to?”
They exchanged a look and a smile, like they didn’t care that his life was in the toilet. Neither of them offered condolences for Papa. Stetson had expected nothing less.
“And the threesome is back!” Judd punched both fists in the air. “Listen. We’ve got some guys at the plant …”
Stetson had heard that the two of them worked at one of the brewing companies in Vail, drinking up as much of their earnings as they took home. They were good guys, but they represented the epitome of what he didn’t want to be: some guy with no goals and no direction. Oh, wait, that’s exactly what he was.
“They have a spot up the mountains where they like to meet, do a bit of off-the-charts ultimate fighting.” Judd’s blue eyes were gleaming with excitement. “Can you come tonight?”
Stetson glanced back at the church. His mama would not be thrilled if he got caught fighting and drinking, but he’d made it through high school doing both without getting found out. He was done drinking, hadn’t touched alcohol since he committed to Purdue, but fighting sounded like better therapy than anything he could think of at the moment.
“Come on,” Judd begged. “You were the best. But nobody who comes now knows how good of a fighter you are; they think you’re just a glory hog football star. Think of the money we could make betting on you.”
“I don’t want the money, and I don’t drink anymore.”
Tyler nodded vigorously. “It’s chill. You don’t have to drink or bet, but will you fight?” His hazel eyes were lit up with greed and anticipation. “There’s this cocky jerk, Ike. You could take him out and settle a lot of scores for us. Please, for old times.”
Stetson swallowed hard and prayed his mama would forgive him if she ever found out. “I’ve got to be with my family this afternoon.”
Judd pounced. “We’ll pick you up at seven.”
Stetson shouldn’t have done it, but he extended his hand. “See you then.”
They both cheered, shook his hand, and thumped him on the back. Stetson knew it was a bad decision, but he could hardly wait to fight someone. Fighting or wrestling with his brothers wasn’t the same; he held back and tried not to hurt them. Some cocky jerk named Ike sounded like the perfect target for his anger at his dad’s loss and his frustrations with his own failures.
Stetson surveyed the clearing packed with men. Judd and Tyler had driven him to the opposite end of Lonepeak Valley, away from his family’s homes and his brother Gavin’s resort and up in the endless mountains. They’d driven over rutted dirt roads for far too long, arriving at the clearing just after eight. Sunset was an hour off, so they’d have plenty of light if the fight got started soon. Numerous trucks were already there, and a fire had been set up but not lit. They’d introduced Stetson to a few people, and he’d endured some questions about why he hadn’t committed to an NFL team yet from some who followed college sports, or at least followed the athletes from close to their home.
“Where did all these men come from?” Stetson asked Judd in an undertone. Lonepeak Valley was small. Without the influence of the Strongs’ ski resort, there would probably be no more than a thousand residents total.
“Everywhere.” Judd smiled. “When word got around that we were bringing in a heavy hitter to take down Ike, they came from as far away as Colorado Springs or even Denver.”
Stetson raised his eyebrows. “Heavy hitter?”
“You, man!” Judd pounded him on the shoulders. “Take this guy down for me. Please.”
At first, Stetson thought Judd was just being his usually crazy self—his breath smelled like he’d already been through a few rounds tonight—but something in that “please” and in his blue eyes struck Stetson as ominous. “You owe the guy something?” he guessed.
Judd nodded shortly, now avoiding his gaze. “About twenty grand.”
Stetson pushed out a breath. Some things never changed. “Gambling?”
“Yep.” He forced a smile back on his face and stepped back. “Thanks for coming, man.”
“What are friends for?” Stetson pasted on his own smile. Judd had been one of his closest friends at Vail High, where they’d thought they were kings. They’d worked hard at football, and Stetson had worked hard on his grades, but on the weekends he and his buddies had partied and picked fights. Stetson had hidden that from his family, especially his mama. It had been a relief to escape the valley and his friends when he left for Purdue. He hadn’t touched alcohol since then, and he hadn’t been in any kind of fight. He was more than ready for the fighting, but alcohol didn’t even tempt him anymore.
“Where’s the pretty-boy fake football star whose face I’m gonna rearrange?” a man yelled over the din of chatter and raucous laughter.
Stetson straightened to his full six-three and puffed out his chest. “Right here,” he called back. He didn’t care that other men called him a pretty boy, referring to either his face or his body; the latter had been honed in a gym and at football practice, not in the “real world.” He’d show this guy “real” like he had never seen.
The other man strutted into the middle of the circle. Stetson threw off his jacket and strode to meet him. There were no refs, no pleasantries. They didn’t bump fists or pretend they were there to do anything besides thrash each other. Stetson took a deep breath of the pine-and-alcohol-scented clearing. He’d missed this.
“Ike,” the man said by way of greeting.
“Stetson.” He inclined his chin.
“Let the thumping begin.” Ike’s huge stature and glowering smile might’ve been intimidating, if his teeth weren’t yellow and chipped. Stetson thought he looked like he was too stupid to know his left from his right without lifting his left hand in the shape of an L.
Stetson grinned. “Bring it.”
Ike growled and plowed into him. He knocked Stetson off his feet. Stetson slammed into the rock-and-twig-strewn ground. His smile never left as Ike’s fists started plowing into his face. He’d really missed this.
Jabbing his fists into the side of Ike’s abdomen a few times, Stetson bucked his body and rolled Ike off of him. Leaping to his feet, he waited for Ike to climb up before going to battle. His only fights in the past few years had been tackling opponents on the football field, but it all came back. He was pummeling Ike with punches and kicks connecting in a flurry that the slower, bigger man couldn’t keep up with. Ike got in some good hits and Stetson had his bell rung a few times and knew he’d have some vicious bruises to hide from his mama, but it felt great.
The Strong Family Romance Collection Page 89
