Honky Tonk Hunk

Reggie

 

 

 

CAROLINA OWNED THE GAME against New York, and I couldn’t be prouder if they’d literally crushed the Dragons all over that field.

But, as usual, I’d left soon after the final whistle blew. I wasn’t sure how much Calder wanted me around, in his life. Not one for self-pity . . . much, I’d only eaten one pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey and drunk two glasses of wine before I heard his key turn in the door.

He’d surprised me, swooping me right off my feet. Then the gifts. The invite out with his entire team.

The gifts and his somewhat shy admission he’d never bought anything like this for a woman before.

I knew Calder had a way with the ladies. Given his profession, he’d never been lacking female company. But he’d made it clear this was different. I was special. And I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Especially if I could get his horse-sized cock in more than my mouth later.

I was out for more than being his bedmate. I wanted the whole nine yards with him. I realized now he finally got it. Maybe that was why he was taking it slow, feeling things out, instead of feeling me up like I wanted him to.

Nevertheless, when he called me trouble and swatted my ass, a tight frisson of need spiraled through me.

In the guest room I used basically only to house my clothes, I looked in the fancy bag after untying the ribbon on the ropey handles. Something delicate was wrapped in swathes of tissue paper, and a large box completed the package.

I pulled out the tissue-wrapped parcel first. Unfolding the edges, I reached inside. A tapered western-style shirt in nearly sheer cream-colored pure silk. It was gorgeous, so soft I rubbed it against my cheek, imagining Calder taking the time to stop off at a high-end store after winning the final game of the NFL season to pick something out explicitly for me.

The turquoise embroidery on the collar and cuffs paired perfectly with a pair of earrings I’d kept with me every day for more years than I could remember.

Placing the top on the bed, I returned to the box. Inside was a pair of ankle boots in my exact size. Goddamn him. He knew a girl could never have enough shoes. They were black, suede, with silver accents, and nowhere near high-heeled enough to put me on eye level with him.

He was being sweet, thoughtful . . . and completely alpha, like I always knew he would be.

And it made me hot.

Beneath the almost see-through top I wore a lacy white bra. Calder wanted to play? I was up for the challenge. Everything fit perfectly, and I paired the outfit and boots with the tight black jeans he seemed to like so much.

When I reached the kitchen, he squinted those sizzling ice blue eyes at me.

In faded jeans, a dark grey shirt that enhanced his eyes all the more, the sight of him knocked me back on my boots. Everything about him screamed Primal. Male. Predator. From his sharp looks to his heady musk.

I swallowed.

He advanced.

“We need to go. Now.” He grabbed the keys to his truck, placed his hand at the small of my back, those long fingers reaching to the roundness of my ass, and hustled me from the house.

“So you approve?”

After seating me then ranging around to the driver’s side, he adjusted his jeans quite obviously before turning on the ignition. “You think?”

God, I loved watching a man in charge. So hot when he curled an arm behind my seat to back out of the driveway—none of that rearview-camera bullshit—then draped one wrist on the steering wheel, laying his other hand—large, rough, and hot—on my thigh.

“I remembered those earrings,” he mentioned. “When I saw the shirt.”

“These old things?” I flicked at the turquoise dangling from my earlobes.

“You bought them on that road trip we took to Colorado one time when Chris was incommunicado and I wanted to cheer you up.”

Sudden dampness swirled my vision, and I grabbed Calder’s hand. I kissed his knuckles, big and bruised.

“You’ve always been there for me.”

“Always will be,” he spoke gruffly.

“Even if I don’t know how to do the two-step?”

He shook his head, streetlights glinting off the dark stubble on his jaw. “You can dance to anything.” His fingers curled between mine. “You own me, you know that, right, Reggie?”

Owning him and possessing him were two entirely different things, I later found out.

By the time we pulled up to the Kick’n Horse Saloon, the parking lot was packed and the party already heaving. Music swelled from inside, almost lost beneath the sounds of loud booming masculine voices.

Once inside, heat immediately poured over me. Men and women crowded at the bar, took over the pool tables in the back, and performed some kind of complicated line dance on the dance floor.

I didn’t recognize everyone, but by my estimation at least the entire team and their wives/girlfriends, the coaching and support staff, the Cougars, and the cheerleaders had shown up to celebrate the big win.

Unbelievably it was Akoni, not Brooks, who led the line dance.

“Akoni can move like that?” I asked as the huge jovial Hawaiian nimbly spun and twisted.

“You haven’t seen his haka yet.”

“Akoni can do anything,” he said as he passed, pulling me—protesting—into the melee.

I laughed, immediately fucking everything up before catching on to the dipping, swaying, turning motions. Standing on the sidelines, Calder watched me with unerring eyes, gaze appreciative, lips spread in a smile.

“C’mon, Calder. Think your dancing days are over because of that stint with the cheerleaders?” one of the men called out.

“Balls still hurtin’, brah?” That was Brooklyn, heckling.

“Hey, you forgot to touch up your lipstick before coming out, Milly!” Marquis joined in.

“Fuck you and you and all of you, too.”

The song ended, and I wondered if my toes were going to make it through the night. There were a lot of big men in a tight space, but just like Akoni had surprised me, the rest of the guys did, too. Handsome, fit, and full of pride at their win, they made up for their size with amazing agility.

About ten minutes after we arrived, Brooklyn whistled between his teeth. “Listen up, y’all! Carolina Crush aren’t the only winners here tonight.” He hauled the beautiful quarterback, Delaney, to his side. “Carolina Cougars fucking tore up the Artemis League cup and won their championship last Sunday against the Houston Hellions. So, raise a glass to the Cougars!”

Shouts and claps and bottles knocking on tables resounded throughout the bar while Brooklyn kissed his fiancée with such incendiary passion I thought the walls would burst into flames.

Right after Brooklyn’s announcement, a slow song started lilting from the five-piece band on stage. Before I had a chance to claim Calder, Raquel appeared. One of Delaney’s teammates, she was so stunning I almost wanted to dance with the beautiful black woman.

She grabbed Calder and hustled him onto the floor, wrapping herself nearly all the way around him while he sent me some sort of apologetic look.

Or it could’ve been one of his trademark smirks.

Urgh.

I tried not to let the jealous steam building inside me blow out my ears when Calder and Raquel danced together in soft swaying motions to the love ballad.

“Thought you’d be out there.” Peyton shouldered up beside me while I ordered a beer.

“I don’t know that much about country music.” I accepted my bottle, taking a quick drink. Stubbornly turning my back on Calder and Raquel.

“Neither do I. I’m all about classic rock.” Peyton swirled a straw around her drink, stopping to smile when Rafe Macintyre curled an arm around her shoulder.

The Crush QB oozed downhome charm and complete sex appeal, and the way he focused solely on his wife made my heart sing. “Whatcha talkin’ about?” he asked.

“Music,” Peyton murmured. Then she winked at me. “Rafe here is into Justin Bieber.”

I nearly spit a mouthful of beer across the bar.

“Evil woman.” He laid a slow kiss on her lips, hand resting possessively on her belly. “Good thing I love the hell out of you.”

“I know you do.”

“No Phil tonight?” I asked.

“She’s getting her auntie time in with Callum,” Peyton answered.

“Probably spoiling him rotten,” Rafe grumbled.

“Like you don’t do the same, Daddy.”

His eyes flared then he shot a look at me. “Wait. You bonded with Phil? The twisted sister?”

“I think she’s sweet.”

Rafe groaned. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Coach D rolled up, his bald head shiny because he’d just cut a rug with his wife. “You badmouthin’ my baby girl again.”

“No sir, Coach Yoda.”

Coach Yoda?

“Boy, I oughtta—”

“Congratulate me on an awesome game? A lovely wife? Another baby on the way?”

“Lucky you are, Peyton’s the big boss, because you I’d sack right now.”

Ahhh, Coach Yoda.

“Except we still have a Super Bowl Trophy to win.”

Even with Chris’s unit—their wives and families—I’d never felt this sense of camaraderie. There were always secrets about their missions, information that could never be shared, problems that rarely saw the light of day because some aspect or other was always classified.

Coach D departed, but Peyton snagged Delaney’s arm as she passed by. “Hey, Laney. You remember Reggie, right? Calder’s sister-in-law.”

“Of course. Met her at the practice grounds.” Delaney’s long black hair shone beneath the lights. The beer lights, that was. She focused on me. “Calder might’ve mentioned you a time or two before as well.”

“Mentioned me? I hope only good things?” I shook her hand.

“The best. Plus, I like Calder. He’s kind of a quiet . . . storm, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” I murmured. “That’s exactly what he is.”

Rafe and Peyton had sidled off without me even realizing it, leaving Delaney and me in a small bubble at the bar. I waited for awkwardness to settle in, but it didn’t.

“Congrats on the Artemis League win. That’s amazing.”

“Thanks. We’re pumped about it. But it might’ve been my last game, at least for a while. Brooklyn and I want to try to start a family.”

“I wish you all the luck in the world.”

“What about you? Any kids?”

“No.” I frowned. “No. Chris and I never . . .”

“I’m sorry,” Delaney clasped my hand. “That was rude or, at least, really stinkin’ nosy.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s easier to talk about than to hide away from what happened to me. I just wish Calder felt the same.”

“About you? He does.”

I peered at her in shock.

“It’s in the way you two look at each other.” She shrugged. “Trust me. I tried to fight it with Brooks from day one and that obviously didn’t work.” She flashed the engagement ring at me. “And I am so damn glad it didn’t. I don’t think I’d have learned to love again without him. Calder needs that too.”

“Does everyone know?”

She snorted. “Nah. Dudes are pretty much clueless.”

On that I had to agree, and we clinked bottles right when Calder—still dancing with Raquel—crossed our line of sight.

I tried like hell to keep the sour feelings curdling in my stomach at bay.

This was his night. His team’s night. And we hadn’t made any promises to one another.

Delaney followed my stare. “You know you don't have to worry about that, right?”

I’d thought so, but now I wasn’t so sure anymore.

I nursed my beer, lying through my teeth. “Oh, I know.”

“Besides, Raquel gave Calder plenty of opportunity to jump her bones, and he didn’t even consider it.”

My heart lifted a little.

“And”—Delaney continued—“pretty much every guy here is gagging for a chance to dance with you.”

“Well, why hasn’t anyone asked me yet?”

Leaning in, she whispered, “They're scared of Calder. Wimps.”

“I can fix that.” I placed my beer on the bar and sauntered right over to Deacon Cross.

He was older than the rest, not a silver fox yet, but in his prime and definitely handsome in his own quiet way.

I touched the defensive tackle on the arm, drawing his attention away from several guys who’d all been shooting the shit. “Would you care to dance?”

He took one look at me, glanced over at Calder, who watched while pretending not to watch, and took my palm in his. “Damn right I would.”

Deacon held me securely, just like he’d cradled the football when he crossed the end zone in that amazing interception play at the end of the game. Perhaps a bit more delicately than the football since he didn’t try to spike me into the floor.

“You’re not married yet?” I asked.

“Waiting for a sweet lady to snap me up.” A wide smile spread his lips, and he had boyish dimples on both cheeks.

“I’m surprised that hasn’t already happened.” I flirted lightly.

He chuckled. “Calder ain’t gonna like this.”

“Really?”

“You should see the way he’s staring at us right now.”

“So, who should I ask next?”

“Buckley. Definitely,” Deacon advised.

“Oh, you’re bad.”

“You know it.”

So I did as Deacon suggested and asked Buckley for the next dance. That time it was a two-step, but the cute Nebraska boy with the blond good looks knew exactly how to lead me into the dance. He’d also been taken on by Carolina Crush the same time as Calder.

I wondered if my roomie had steam blowing out of his ears yet.

Guess what?

When Buckley murmured his next move so I’d be ready, we swept by Calder who definitely was not dancing with Raquel anymore.

“So you were a Cornhusker?” I ignored Calder, pinning my attention on Luke Buckley.

“Yeah.” Buckley grinned. “Got tired of all the corn and wanted to spend some time on the coast.”

“Are you having a good season?”

He turned me effortlessly then rolled me back into his arms. “Getting drafted is the number one win. Hit a few bumps in the road though. My own fault. I’ve got a big mouth.”

“You’ll grow into it.”

“I’ve already grown into something else that’s pretty big. Wanna find out?” His light blue eyes glinted with teasing humor.

“Now I see what your teammates meant.” I grinned, the song coming to a close. “Who should I dance with next?”

“If you’re trying to get under Calder’s skin, just stick with me.”

“But what if I want to play the field?”

“Bunyan. He’s had a hankering for you since that show in Vegas.” He held my hand a moment longer. “Good luck. Calder’s one of the good guys.”

I approached big Bunyan, tapping on his shoulder to draw his attention.

He spun toward me, doffing an imaginary cowboy hat. “How do, little lady. I’m Paul Biggs, what can I do you for?”

“I know who you are, Bunyan.”

“You do?” He crossed his arms over his chest but bashfully looked down at his size-huge feet.

It was cute.

“I do. And I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me?”

“I think I can accommodate you.” He winked. “Just don’t pull any of those fancy showgirl moves on me. On second thought, maybe you should do that.” He wiggled his eyebrows while I laughed.

Guiding me out onto the floor then pulling me close—friendly close, not boundary-pushing close—Paul made me feel safe and soft and a little bit like a vixen.

He swayed with me, broad shoulders shifting under my palms.

“Calder’s gonna kill me for this,” he murmured near my ear.

“His fault, not yours.”

“So you want me dead?”

“No. Of course not!”

“I’m kidding.” He towered over me, his arm wrapped around my waist. “I’m bigger than that little shit anyway.”

I shook my head, laughing.

After the next set of turns that took us across the dancefloor, I glanced up. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you really have a blue ox, Bunyan?”

Lifting me off my feet, he swung me around. “Nope, babe. But you are one fine fox.”

“Smooth words.”

“Got some smooth moves too.” He dipped me, completely supporting me.

As soon as he easily drew me back up, I tapped his chest. “Paul Biggs. Why hasn’t some lucky lady snapped you up already?”

“Saving myself for you.”

I laughed lightly.

On the next spin, I saw Calder.

Flat glare. Tightlipped smile.

Uh oh. And oh yay.

About damn time he paid attention and staked his claim.