Going Deep Boxed Set (Books 1-4)

by Virna DePaul

  She thought about going to bed, but was afraid she’d lay there thinking of Heath, placing too much importance on him reaching out to her, so she turned on the TV and flipped channels before landing on some show on HGTV. A man wanted to remodel a house extensively, while his long-suffering wife looked on. But she barely registered the show so she turned off the TV.

  She kept glancing at her phone as if willing Heath to text her again. She kept thinking about just how much he’d been on her mind, how she’d been considering reaching out to him again only to discover that he’d obviously been thinking about her, as well.

  Abruptly, she grabbed her phone then texted him before she could change her mind.

  I know you probably can’t make it, but my kid is in love with you and would really love it if you could come to her party in a couple of weeks.

  As soon as she hit send, she made her way upstairs, put the phone on her dresser, then ran a quick bath and got ready for bed. When she picked up the phone again and he hadn’t replied, she groaned. Why had she sent that message? He probably thought she was some desperate weirdo, asking him to her daughter’s party like they were dating or something.

  She tried to read a book, but an hour later, when he still hadn’t replied, she gave up. It was when she was sliding into bed and about to turn off her light that she heard her phone ding.

  In love with me, huh? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  He’d added a few ridiculous emojis for good measure. She could just imagine him waggling his eyebrows and grinning that stupid grin of his.

  Right now, though, she was torn between relief that he’d replied at all, and annoyance that he could never be serious about anything. Keep telling yourself that, Dawson, she replied. Whatever lets you sleep at night.

  I sleep fine, especially since I dream of you most nights. Do you want to hear my latest one?

  Just like that, it was as if they hadn’t been apart for the past week. His easy confession that he’d dreamed of her made her heart beat faster, but she told herself that he just couldn’t help himself. It didn’t mean anything.

  Not particularly. So can you come or not?

  The dots blinked for a bit, and she had to restrain herself from asking him what he’d dreamed about. Part of her wanted to know if her dream self could measure up to what had happened on that afternoon together, and then she felt silly for wanting to know. They weren’t going to sleep together again, so what did it matter? If or when she saw him again, it would be in a purely professional context. Well, excepting if he somehow came to Emma’s party.

  You’re missing out. Then the dots again before he added, I’ll see if I can come. Should I bring a gift?

  Camille was about to say no, but then she shrugged. If he wanted to bring a gift, who was she to say no? It’s a pirate tea party, so anything like that would work.

  He replied with a few laughing emojis. I like this kid of yours. Pirate tea party it is. If I can’t come, I’ll send her a card.

  They texted a few more lines, although nothing that alluded to sleeping together that afternoon. Eventually, she told him she needed to get to bed. The blinking dots popped up, and his reply read, Dream of me, will you? It would only be fair.

  She didn’t know how to respond to that. She had assumed he wanted nothing to do with her now that she was two hours away—out of sight, out of mind, right?— but maybe she was wrong. Then again, what did it matter? Did she really want to risk being with him again, given that having him walk away from her once already, after slapping her on the ass, no less, had been so painful?

  She sent back an eyeroll emoji before texting, I hope I’m not enough of a masochist to dream of you. I see enough of you in real life, thank you very much.

  You never fail to inflate a man’s ego. Good night, Watergirl.

  She replied with a rote “night” and then plugged in her phone before turning off her light. Tossing and turning, she once again tried to get him out of her head, but it was useless.

  At least for now, Heath Dawson was there to stay.

  Chapter 12

  Heath threw back his beer, his third one this afternoon. Alec had invited him to hang out by the pool that afternoon, and the two men drank beer and ate hot wings as they lay in the sun. It was a hot, muggy day, a usual kind of afternoon for summer in Georgia, but Heath loved the sun beating down on him, and the sweat that broke out just from sitting around, and the feeling of a cold beer going down his throat as he wasted time doing absolutely nothing.

  Alec’s fiancée Colleen had also joined them, and it gave Heath a reason not to have to talk to his fellow player too much. Colleen was gorgeous, with midnight black hair, her eyes a light shade of brown. She kept herself in top form, her body a work of art, and even though she was pregnant, there was no sign of it in her tiny white bikini. But even as he looked at Colleen’s gorgeous body, the only woman he truly saw was Camille.

  He couldn’t get her out of his head—not her smile, or her body, or the way she’d moaned his name as he made her come. He also couldn’t forget the way she’d looked at him after he’d slapped her ass and basically hurried her out. Or when he’d ignored her at that last game. He winced inwardly. Neither had been his best move.

  He’d gotten freaked about the idea of getting too close to her and he’d acted like a bastard because of it. He’d thought that a little time and distance would get her out of his system, but that hadn’t been the case. He was just as obsessed with her. It didn’t matter if an entire parade of Colleens dressed in white bikinis marched by: he wouldn’t even notice at this point.

  He’d been wavering between reaching out to her and doing what was right for both of them and leaving her alone. Camille had a kid, for God’s sake. She didn’t deserve to be hooked up with a guy who wasn’t willing to commit to her.

  But yesterday, he hadn’t been able to hold back any longer. He couldn’t let her think that their time together hadn’t meant something to him. So he’d texted her, not wanting to accomplish anything but let her know he’d been thinking of her. Her reception hadn’t been encouraging, and he’d told himself that was it, he had to let things go. Then she’d texted him back, asking him to come to her kid’s birthday party.

  “I’ve scheduled the tux fittings for next Thursday at 3:00,” Colleen was saying in an annoyed voice. “You’ll be there, right?”

  Heath knew his buddy was at his wit’s end with this whole wedding business.

  “At 3:00? Colleen, you know I have practice then. I’ve told you that so many times.” Alec tossed back his beer, finishing off what was probably his fourth or fifth bottle already. “And haven’t I already done a fitting before? How many do I need?”

  “As many as it takes until it’s perfect. You had to get your tux tailored, so you need to try on the finished product before the wedding.” She turned toward her fiancé, her back to Heath now. “Why are you always so difficult?”

  “Me? I have a job to do. You just keep scheduling things when you know I can’t come. How about you ask my assistant first before making appointments?”

  Heath could see Colleen bristling, and he wished he’d brought headphones so he could listen to music instead of their argument. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them not arguing. Heath knew his friend was trying to do the right thing for his kid by marrying Colleen, but he doubted they were going to make the long haul. But he’d yet to offer his opinion. If Alec wanted it, he’d ask.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t just do these simple things for me!” Colleen’s voice rose, and Heath winced. “Do you want this wedding to be an absolute disaster?”

  Alec sighed. “Fine, I’ll be there, Colleen.”

  “Promise?” She leaned over and gave him a smacking kiss. “I love you, baby.”

  In response, Alec just smiled weakly. Colleen frowned when he didn’t say the words back to her, then went into the house.

  The afternoon meandered into silence—blessed silence, Heath thou
ght—and the trio simply lay out in the sun for the next two hours. Colleen got up a few times to answer phone calls, while Alec continued drinking, something he’d been doing far too much of, Heath had started to notice. As evening approached, she went inside and came back out an hour later, dressed to the nines, teetering on stilettos. She leaned down and kissed Alec, who quickly turned his head so the kiss landed on his cheek. “I’m going out with the girls. Text me if you need anything?”

  “Have fun,” he replied distractedly. She raised an eyebrow at Heath, as if to tell him to keep her fiancé in line while she was gone, and then she left the two men alone.

  “Want another beer?” Alec asked.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  When he returned with a beer for himself, he cocked his head to the side and looked at Heath for a moment. “Either you finally got it on with Genevieve, or something else happened. You’ve been quiet all afternoon.”

  “No, not Genevieve. Somebody else, actually. Let’s just say she’s…made an impression on me.” He waited for Alec to pump him for information. But maybe Alec sensed Heath’s desire not to kiss and tell, because all he said was, “So are things getting serious?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “But she did invite me to her kid’s birthday party.”

  Alec’s eyebrows rose. “She has a kid? And she invited you to the party? Moving kinda fast, isn’t she?”

  It didn’t feel like moving too fast, at least not to Heath. And she hadn’t seemed to want to invite him: it had been a favor for her kid. Then again, she could’ve just told her daughter he was unavailable and never asked him at all, so clearly she didn’t hate the idea of seeing him. “Apparently her kid is a big fan.”

  “If you really like this girl—and it sounds like you do—you should do something nice for the kid. Get her a football and sign it or something. I know the best way to get on a woman’s good side is to treat the kid well.”

  “I should probably stay away from her, though. She has a kid; she isn’t like Genevieve or the other girls I date. She’s…normal.”

  “Yeah, but the way she makes you feel doesn’t seem normal either. If she challenges you, then I think you should go for it.”

  Heath couldn’t help but laugh. “Since when did you become an expert on relationships?”

  Despite the humor behind Heath’s joke, Alec seemed to sober at his words. “Never said I was an expert,” he said quietly. “I know Colleen and I don’t seem like the happiest couple.”

  Heath debated on whether or not he should act like he hadn’t heard, to avoid delving into a deep topic. But looking at his friend’s tight, drawn face, he couldn’t let this slide. He sighed inwardly—he really wasn’t good at this stuff, but he could at least try, right?

  “You still determined to marry her? Because you can still be part of the baby’s life…”

  Alec shook his head. “I was raised by a single mom. And Colleen… She likes the idea of being with an athlete. If it’s not me…” He shook his head. “I need to know the baby, and Colleen, are taken care of.”

  Heath understood where Alec was coming from even though he disagreed with where it was taking him, but he hadn’t grown up without a dad the way Alec had either. “Maybe you guys are just stressed about the pregnancy. And Colleen’s got the hormone thing going on, along with the stress of the wedding. Things will probably get better.” Even he couldn’t really believe the words coming out of his mouth, but he wanted his friend to believe them.

  “Yeah, probably. One more month until the wedding, and then we’ll see I guess,” Alec sighed, leaning back in his deck chair.

  Heath raised a glass. “One more month and you’ll be a boring married man.” He tried for a joking tone, but he sounded forced even to his own ears.

  Heath and Alec hung outside for a little while longer before Heath made his way home. He hoped Alec and Colleen would work things out between them, but he didn’t know if signing the dotted line on a marriage certificate would do it. He prayed that his friend figured things out—and if that meant ending the engagement? So be it.

  He forced himself to transfer his thoughts elsewhere and it wasn’t difficult to do. Camille. Camille in his bed, writhing and moaning, her sweet pussy underneath his tongue. He groaned as he drove, hardening at the memory. He couldn’t just let things slide, let her off the hook and act like nothing had happened. He needed her underneath him, on top of him, in every room and on every countertop in existence. One taste hadn’t been nearly enough.

  Using his car’s Bluetooth, he called her, and he listened as her phone rang. And rang. He almost thought she wasn’t going to pick up when her voice echoed through his speakers, “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Heath. What are you doing?”

  A pause. “Putting together a shopping list so I can pick up some things tomorrow.”

  She didn’t sound annoyed, merely…confused. He could work with that.

  “What are you shopping for? If you’re trying on sexy dresses, I’d be happy to give you my opinion.”

  She laughed. “I’ll actually be shopping for eye patches and pink feather boas.”

  “Hmmm. Super sexy. But I assume those are for a certain kid’s birthday party and not for more adult activities?”

  She snorted. “You’d be right in that assumption.”

  “Too bad. You want company anyway?”

  “Um…seriously?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  “You’re over an hour’s drive away, for one.”

  “Sure, but what’s an hour or two when I get to see your gorgeous face?”

  “Is it my face you’re interested in seeing or something else?” she said drily.

  He laughed. “I’m interested in seeing whatever you’re willing to show me on this shopping expedition. So, how about it?”

  The next day, Camille and Heath were wandering around a costume shop, and he was doing an admirable job pretending to be interested in finding items for the perfect pirate tea party. “How about this?” he said, holding up a packet of fake beards and mustaches.

  “Maybe in the party favor bags. Otherwise they’ll get cake and ice cream all over them.”

  “Oh, good thinking.”

  They continued wandering, and to Camille’s surprise, Heath casually took her hand while they strolled. Her heart thumped loudly and she struggled not to melt when he rubbed her knuckles with his thumb.

  “So tell me about yourself.”

  It was so random and unexpected that she was taken aback for a moment. “Is this a job interview?” she joked.

  “No, I just realized we haven’t really talked, is all. What did you want to be when you grew up?”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that—he wanted to talk, while he was helping her shop for Emma’s birthday party, no less, yet just last week, he’d made it clear he only had sex on his mind where she was concerned, and that had been before he’d blown her off. But when she looked back at him, his expression was genuinely curious.

  For some reason, though, she didn’t want to talk about herself. She wanted to know about him; she realized with a start that she barely knew him. Sure, they’d gone to the same schools, but that didn’t mean you knew someone. Not really. “Before I answer your questions, how about I ask you one? Then we can go back and forth,” she said.

  He considered a moment before nodding. “Sounds like a deal. What do you want to know?”

  “How about what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you always want to play in the NFL?” She expected that he’d say yes, but when he shook his head, surprise filled her.

  “Nope, I wanted to be a little league coach, like your dad. My dad was the one who wanted me to get into the NFL. I’ll be honest, I actually wanted to be your dad when I grew up.”

  She stopped walking, surprise and tenderness filling her. She’d known that Heath had looked up to her dad, but she’d had no idea he’d wanted to be like Cal Pollert. The fact that his childhood dream had been so…
normal made her heart twist a little. Had he also wanted the happy family? She knew his dad had never been the nurturing type, and that his mom hadn’t been around at all. “When did that idea change?” she asked.

  Heath thought a moment. “Probably when my dad lost his job when I was a kid—he got injured, you know. He knew he could never pay for college, so he wanted me to earn a football scholarship. He pushed me to be my very best.” He gestured at himself. “And here I am, NFL player and all.”

  “Yeah, but is that what you wanted? Or did you just do what your dad said?”

  “I wanted to be good at football, for him. For myself. I didn’t want to be a burden. And I was never going to get that 4.0, so football was all I had.” He smiled, although it was a little bitterly.

  Camille couldn’t even imagine the amount of pressure he’d been under as a kid. What if he hadn’t gotten that scholarship? What would have happened then? She almost asked, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Instead, she pointed to a section of sports costumes.

  “Did you wear football uniforms for Halloween as a kid?”

  “Nah. I was more into Star Wars and zombies. How about you? Ever dress up as a cheerleader? Because if not, we definitely have to rectify that and soon. In fact…”

  His zeroed in on a skimpy cheerleading costume, and then he looked back at her with pleading eyes.

  “Absolutely not,” she said.

  He pouted exaggeratedly, but they kept walking until they came upon some toy swords. Heath grabbed one.

  “Surrender, woman!” he said as he thrust the pointed plastic at her side. “I’ll get yer booty!”

  “You wish!” Giggling, she grabbed her own sword, and gently stabbed him in the stomach, and he clutched his abdomen, acting like he was mortally wounded. She left him fake-bleeding on the floor, laughing despite herself.

  Next, they tried on wigs and feather boas and masks, laughing at each other the entire time. Other patrons noticed them—how could they not notice Heath Dawson of the Bootleggers?—but thankfully, they were mostly left alone. The store clerk asked them a few times if they needed assistance, probably annoyed at their antics, but Heath just winked and said they were good.