The Complete Rixton Falls Series

by Winter Renshaw

  Groaning, I throw my gym towel over my shoulder. “Really don’t have time. I’m on a tight schedule.”

  “No, no. You’re going to want to hear this.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “I overheard Daddy and Coach Roberts on the phone the other day.” She steps closer, leaning in. The overpowering scent of her honey-blossom perfume assaults my lungs. “They’re still talking about letting you out of your contract.”

  My eyes squint. “You’re lying.”

  “Hand to God.” She lifts her palm flat.

  “I’m doing everything they told me to do. They need me.”

  “Sweetheart, everyone’s disposable in this industry. Nobody’s a special snowflake. Not even you. It’s all business anyway. At the end of the day it’s just dollars and cents.” Her head tilts as if she’s capable of showing some kind of sympathy, but she’s just as fake as the tits protruding from her rail-thin body like two pointed missiles. “I guess the scout found some promising rookie about to graduate from Central Texas. He’s the best running back anyone’s seen in a long time, and they’ve been wooing him something fierce. Everyone’s after him. They want to make him an offer as soon as possible. But if they take him on, they won’t need you.”

  “You’re such a goddamned liar, Carissa.”

  “I’m not lying, Zane.” Her expression darkens to match the storm brewing in her eyes. “I’m telling the truth. They’re trying to get rid of you. The whole party-boy reputation was nothing more than an excuse. They were stacking up the dominoes, waiting for the right time to make them fall.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  Her hands press against my chest as she moves another step closer. “I don’t want you to go, Zane. If you get traded to another team, if you move away, I’ll never see you again.”

  “I won’t put up with this bullshit.” I stand tall, pressing my shoulders back and taking my phone from my shorts pocket. “I’m going to call Coach Roberts right now.”

  “No!” She slaps my shoulder. “Confronting them is the worst thing you can do. They’ll blacklist you and create an overnight PR shit storm. Remember Connor McEvers? Used to play for the Pittsburgh Dynamite? He was forced to retire at twenty-six because no one wanted him after all the allegations.”

  I remember Connor.

  And I remember thinking what happened to him was utter bullshit too, but the media frenzy that surrounded it all seemed mind-blowingly legit. Accused of sexual assault and battery, rumor had it it was a set-up, only his not-guilty verdict didn’t do much to revive his career after the damage had already been done.

  “If you confront them, I can guarantee you’ll be the next Connor McEvers.”

  My eyes roll to the back of my head.

  “We can fix this,” she says.

  “We?”

  “Yeah. If I tell Daddy you’re my boyfriend, that we’re in love, I can convince him not to let you go.”

  “Your father is a businessman. He’s not going to let a deal fall through because his daughter is in love.” I spit my words at her. She’s insulting my intelligence. “Nice try, Carissa.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she says. “That man has never said no to me.”

  “And maybe that’s your problem. You need to be told ‘no’ more often.” I cross my arms.

  “How are things going with Rue’s niece?” she switches the subject.

  “Leave her out of this.”

  Carissa shrugs. “I was just asking.”

  “No, you weren’t just asking.” I glance at the clock on the wall and sigh. She’s really cutting into my workout.

  “She looks a lot like Mirabelle. It’s kind of creepy actually.”

  My jaw tightens. “Don’t say her name around me.”

  “I’m just saying the resemblance is uncanny. I think that’s why you’re fucking her. You wish she was Mirabelle.” Carissa folds her arms, arching a brow. “It’d be a shame if she ever found out what happened . . .”

  “Is that a threat?” I lean in, voice low and guttural. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you want? What’s it going to take to get you to leave me alone?”

  “All I want is one date with you,” she says. “One date where you get dressed up and I get dressed up and you show me off and treat me the way I deserve to be treated. Like I’m the only girl in the world.” Her fingers trail up the center of my chest. “I want you to look at me like you look at her. Like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen, Zane.”

  My stomach turns.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. And you will.” Her hand falls and her arms cross tight along her chest. “Next month, you’re escorting me to the Annual Camp Kick Off Party at my father’s house. I already told him you asked me to be your date, so I suggest you be a man of your word.”

  She winks, and I’ve never wanted to hit a woman so hard before. My fists clench at my sides.

  “Why the fuck would you do that?” I’m seeing red.

  “I just want one chance to prove that we could be happy together. That I’m not a psycho bitch. I’m just a girl who fell hopelessly in love with the one man in the world who doesn’t want her. I want a chance to turn this tragedy into the love story it deserves to be.” Carissa sighs. “Give me one night, and I’ll be out of your hair forever. And I promise to make sure my father doesn’t do a damn thing to destroy the career you’ve worked your ass off for. You have my word. Zane, I mean it. I promise.”

  Her eyes grow round and her hand lands on her chest.

  “One night,” she says. “A handful of hours. And your future is back in your own hands . . . whichever direction you decide to go. Because you never know, you might actually have a nice time with me. And if you don’t? I’ll step away. Let you go running, arms wide open, back to Rue’s mousy little niece.”

  Her nose points up.

  It’s not my policy to negotiate with terrorists. Or crazy psycho stalkers. But in this case, the reward might be worth the hassle.

  It’s just one night. A handful of hours with a fake smile on my face and the owner’s daughter draped on my arm. It won’t mean a damn thing.

  And then this will all be over.

  Finally.

  “One night,” I say, walking away. “And then this is done.”

  Chapter 19

  Delilah

  “I need you out of here in an hour.” I stand outside the guest bathroom I’ve been sharing with my sister all week as she irons in a few curls and drags her fingers through them to break them up. “We have another showing. Buyers will be here at five.”

  “Does Rue know?” Daphne plucks a hair pin between her teeth and separates the prongs. “She just started packing for Palm Springs, like, twenty minutes ago.”

  “Yes,” I told her. “She’s almost finished. Why are you getting all dolled up?”

  Daphne meets my gaze in the mirror and bites her lip.

  “Weston?” I ask. Should’ve known.

  She slinks a shoulder to her ear, her lips spreading wide in sly, slow movements. I’ve never known a man to put that kind of smile on my sister’s face.

  “This is your second date this week,” I say. “He knows you fly home tomorrow, right?”

  She brushes her fingers through her hair before pinning two face-framing strands behind her ear.

  “I wish I could stay. I’m having so much fun getting to know him. We’ve been texting all week. Did you know his father used to be some hotshot movie director? And his mother is some kind of royalty from Europe. Weston’s a royal.”

  “Huh. Never would’ve guessed. He’s so sweet and modest.”

  “Exactly.” She releases a happy sigh. “And I have to go back and paint some farm animal mural.”

  “How long is it going to take you to paint?”

  Daphne pouts. “I don’t know. A few weeks at least.”

  “He could always come visit you.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not even going t
o suggest that. We’re just having fun, going with the flow, enjoying each other’s company. Whatever happens, happens.”

  I check the time on my phone and slide it into my pocket. “Okay, I have to check on Rue and wipe down the kitchen one last time.”

  “Good job, sister. Make that granite shine like the top of the Chrysler building.” Daphne winks, spritzing on perfume and giving herself another once-over.

  “You look beautiful,” I say. “As always.”

  She swats me away. “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

  Leaning against the doorframe, I pause and glance through my bedroom door and out the open window that seems to frame Zane’s house perfectly.

  “Has he apologized yet?” she asks.

  A few nights ago we went out for dinner and caught the newest Nicholas Sparks movie, and on the way home, when she finished gushing about Weston, I filled her in on Zane.

  “Nope,” I say. “It’s okay. I don’t even want an apology.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Kind of want to be less sensitive. I’m starting to think I’m the problem here.”

  “You’re not the problem, Delilah. The things he said were offensive and rude. And you had every right to get upset.”

  I lift my gaze into hers, hanging onto her every validating word. “You really think so?”

  “Yeah.” Her brows scrunch. “But I also think you should keep hooking up with him because it’s just sex. Who cares if he’s a noble gentleman or a scandalous rogue outside the bedroom. You’re not dating him. You’re not going to marry him. Just have fun.”

  “But I can’t have fun when he’s constantly running that mouth of his. That man needs to think before he speaks.”

  “Then keep his mouth busy . . .” Daphne chuckles. “Someday when you’re seventy-five, I want you to look back on that summer vacation you spent in Florida hooking up with a ridiculously attractive professional football player. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your shoes? And you’ve been moping around all week like it’s some kind of burden. I mean, honestly, Delilah.”

  Groaning, I lift my hand to my temple. “I just don’t understand why everything has to be complicated. Kind of sucks all the fun out of it.”

  Daphne’s mouth inches up in the corners as she steps toward me. Her hand cups my shoulder and she leans in.

  “The complication is the fun,” she says. “Embrace the complication. Have fun with it. Learn from it. Love it. It’s the best part. Truly. We’re young. We’re not supposed to have all the answers, and you sure as heck won’t find them in one of your textbooks. Life is messy. And you’re never going to learn a damn thing if you don’t get your hands dirty once in a while.”

  She saunters past me, heels clicking on the wood floor in the hallway as she disappears around the corner.

  Shuffling down the hall to Aunt Rue’s room, I catch her zipping her suitcase.

  “That was fast,” I say. “All packed?”

  “Everything but my toiletry bag.” She scurries to the en suite and throws a bunch of things into a zippered pouch. They click and clack as she drops them in. “Toothbrush . . . glasses . . . hand cream . . .”

  I check the time one more time. “We have to be out of here in forty-five.”

  She lifts a finger, mumbling to herself.

  “I have a good feeling about this one,” I say. We’ve had five showings this week and one offer, which Rue turned down without so much as a counter. It was so low it literally insulted her.

  “You and me both.” She zips her cosmetics pouch and brushes past me. Aunt Rue is driving to Palm Beach to shop for her fancy new condo. The plan was for me to accompany her, but Taylor decided to throw an open house tomorrow and she wants me here to help him set up and to help give personalized tours since I know the house better than anyone. “What are you and Daphne doing tonight? Oh. I left some money on the counter for her Uber tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need to tell her goodbye before I leave.”

  “Might want to hurry. She’s on her way out the door. Hot date.”

  Rue’s mouth hangs for a split second and she makes a beeline for the hall, calling out my sister’s name. When she returns, she scans her room.

  “I always feel like I’m forgetting something.” She lifts a finger to her mouth, eyes scrunched. “Oh, well. I don’t have time to try and remember anyway. Care to help me with my bags, sweetheart?”

  I grab her luggage and wheel it to the garage as she rambles on and on about these hot listings her Palm Beach agent found. She seems excited, much to my relief.

  Loading her bag in the trunk, she places her hand on mine. “What are you going to do tonight, Delilah?”

  Excellent question.

  Daphne just left.

  Rue’s taking her car.

  I give her a reassuring smile. “I’ll figure something out. Get going. I have to lock up.”

  “You know.” Rue places a hand on her hip. “I’ve been thinking lately. About Zane.”

  “That’s random.” I laugh.

  “Ever since you’ve been around, he hasn’t been causing as much trouble with the HOA. There’ve been no hot tub threesomes. No relieving himself on lawns. No wild parties. No sex tape scandals.”

  “Sex tape scandals?” I about choke on my words.

  Rue’s lips flatten as she glances up at me. “You didn’t know?”

  She glances at the dainty gold watch on her wrist. “Oh, sweetie, it’s a long story. Can I tell you when I get back in a few days?”

  My jaw hangs.

  No.

  She can’t do that to me.

  She can’t just drop a bomb like that and hop in her little red Lexus and speed off into the tangerine Florida sunset.

  “I’m sure you can Google it.” Rue’s head tilts as she jangles her keys and wraps them in her palm. “Although at this point, you might want to go straight to the source. Might be better to hear about it from him.”

  “We’re not really speaking right now.”

  Rue’s left brow arches high. “Did he hurt you?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Well, damn.” Rue stares at the floor, her gaze unfixed as she thinks for a moment. “Tried to warn you, sweetheart. You wouldn’t listen.”

  “It’s not like that,” I say. “He’s a good man. I think. It’s just complicated.”

  “Life is way too short to waste time on complicated assholes. Believe me. I have an entire Rolodex of them. Anyway, I have to go.” She pulls out a pair of oversized sunglasses fit for a movie star from her purse and slides them over her nose. “You call if you need anything, all right?”

  I hug Aunt Rue and step back as she backs out of her driveway and speeds away, and just as Daphne’s advice and Rue’s advice mix like oil and water in my head, my phone begins to buzz in my pocket.

  Sliding it out, I glance at the screen, my heart stopping cold when I see a text message from Zane.

  ZANE: FOR THE RECORD, I THINK IT’S REALLY FUCKING HOT THAT YOU HAVE A BRAIN AND YOU’RE NOT AFRAID TO USE IT. I’M SORRY I HURT YOUR FEELINGS. SHRINKS ARE COOL. FOOTBALL PLAYERS DROOL.

  I laugh, my anger towards him evaporating into the thick Florida air.

  ME: WHAT DO YOU WANT, ZANE?

  ZANE: YOU. I WANT YOU. IN MY BED. RIGHT NOW.

  Warmth burns my cheeks and spreads south to my core. The thought of Zane’s muscled body over mine, pinning me to his mattress, his hands parting my thighs and his mouth owning every square inch of me is almost enough to send me in a dead sprint to the house next door.

  ME: YOU THINK I’M THAT EASY?

  I shut the garage door and flip off the lights, heading in to do a once-over at the house and another at myself.

  ZANE: I FEEL LIKE THAT’S A TRICK QUESTION AND I REALLY FUCKING HATE TEXTING. GET YOUR HOT LITTLE ASS OVER HERE AND WE’LL TALK FACE TO FACE.

  Grabbing my bag by the front door, I check my reflection one last time, completely unable to wipe
the annoying smile off my face, and head next door.

  Daphne’s advice echoes in my ears.

  Sorry, Aunt Rue.

  Tonight, I’m embracing complicated.

  Chapter 20

  Zane

  “Shit, gorgeous, if I knew all it’d take was a text message, I’d have texted you days ago.” I fasten my hand on her hip and pull her inside my front door.

  “Days ago I might not have been this receptive,” she says.

  Her lips are bitten and stung and slicked in some kind of cherry-pink lip balm that I’m sure tastes like raspberries or pomegranate. I can’t stand here and look at them and not want to crush them with mine. I’ve missed her taste on my tongue. I’ve missed her soft hair knotted in my hands and her smooth skin under my palms and her soaked pussy clenched and pulsing on my cock.

  Hooking my hands under her ass, I lift her up and walk her to my room.

  “Just like that?” she says.

  “Were you expecting something more formal? Tea and crumpets before we begin?”

  “No.” She smiles, her arms wrapped around my neck.

  “I mean, you came here to get fucked, right?”

  She nods.

  “I fucking love it.” My mouth crashes into hers as I carry her down the hall. “Such a dirty girl.”

  Her mouth smiles against mine and for the next hour, the rest of the world disappears. For the next hour, I lose myself in the girl next door. For the next hour, I forget everything.

  And I remember how good it feels to be close to someone again. Even if it’s purely physical.

  Delilah wakes with a start, sitting up in bed and feeling the space around her. My room is pitch dark now, and the glowing clock on the nightstand reads a quarter past eleven.

  “Go back to sleep.” I drag her toward me. “You wore me out, woman.”

  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I should get back.” She pulls against me, dipping one leg off the edge of the bed.

  “Stop,” I say. “You’re already here. Naked. In my bed. You may as well stay the night.”