by Mari Carr
“I love you too.” Tucker looked around, then pointed to Mrs. Potter’s house. “What’s that place like inside?”
“What?” She was clearly taken aback by his sudden about-face. He’d taken her from tears and proclamations of love to real estate in the blink of an eye.
He fought to keep his face impassive. “The Potter place. What’s it look like inside?”
She shrugged, still struggling to switch gears. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve never been inside?”
“Yes, I have. I mean…it’s nice, I guess.”
“How many bedrooms?”
She laughed. “Seriously? You want to have a conversation about the Potter house? Right now?”
He nodded, unable to restrain his grin. Her exasperation was adorable.
“I have no idea,” she said when it was clear he wouldn’t relent. “Five, maybe six. Why?”
“I want to make sure we have enough room for our brood.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Our brood?”
“Our kids. You know, eleven would give us enough to cover the football field.”
She shook her head. “I’m not having eleven children. I’ve taught Kindergarten for eight years. We’ll be lucky if I can come up with two names that haven’t been ruined for me by all the demon seeds who’ve passed through my room in that time.”
He laughed at her response, trying to decide if she was taking his comment in stride because she thought it was joke. “So is that a yes?”
She tilted her head. “Was that a sincere proposal?”
Tucker dropped down to one knee. “What can I say? I’m a quarterback. I like to get a read of the field before I throw the ball.”
“And my response left you feeling confident? You realize I thought you were kidding,” she said, gesturing to his pose.
He gave her a cocky grin. “Maybe so, but I’m going for broke. Throwing the Hail Mary. Marry me, Lela. Let’s get hitched, buy this farm, make lots of babies and grow old together.”
Lela didn’t bother to wipe away the tears suddenly streaming down her face. “That sounds completely wonderful.”
Tucker stood and reached into his pocket. Lela’s eyebrows rose when he pulled out a ring. He’d tucked it in there this morning. Just in case, he had thought. He’d been kidding himself right up until the moment Coach called him out for being a fool. “It was my mother’s. I know it’s not much. My folks were always poor and I’m not sure it will fit, but we can get it sized and add a whole bunch of diamonds to it. I’m pretty much richer than God.”
Lela sniffled and giggled as he slid the ring onto her finger. It fit. “I don’t need a bunch of diamonds, Tucker. It’s perfect. I want to keep it just like this.”
Tucker kissed her, certain he was the luckiest man on the planet.
“I should warn you,” he started, realizing there was still one thing she hadn’t seen since his return. “The headaches are bad. They put me in bed for days.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m glad you’ve mentioned that. We’re taking some of that pile of money you have and finding another specialist, the best there is. I want you to tell him all of your symptoms. No more hiding things from doctors.”
He agreed. “Okay. So you want to buy this place? I sort of like the idea of having Coach and Lorelie as neighbors.”
Lela studied his face. “You sure you’re really okay with moving back to Quinn?”
Tucker didn’t even have to consider his reply. “Absolutely. Everyone I care about is here.”
She smiled. “What about my house on the lake?”
“Keep it. We can spend weekends there.”
Lela glanced at the Potter place. “I’d love to raise our family here with you.”
Tucker picked her up and spun her as she laughed. He could see in her face that her joy rivaled his. When he put her down, he gave her a mischievous grin. “Are you sure Mrs. Potter is at the fire hall?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Yes. Why?”
Tucker clasped her hand and pulled her toward a grove of pine trees away from the road, near the edge of the property. “Because you and I are about to christen the first tiny piece of our new home. Then we’re going to go tell our family and friends we’re getting hitched. After that, we’ll Texas two-step until we drop.”
She laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got the game plan all figured out.”
“Yep. So get ready, L.B.,” Tucker teased. “Because I’m about to spike the ball.”
Want to read more about Jackson and Wade?
Enjoy these excerpts from other Boys of Fall books. Available now!
Out of Bounds: Excerpt
by Erin Nicholas
As star running back for his high school team, Jackson Brady led a charmed life—until the wild child pushed a little too far. And thanks to snitching goody two-shoes Annabelle Hartington, Jackson endured scandal, shame, and suspension from the team before the championship game. His ensuing downward spiral would have been far worse if not for Nicholas Carr, his high school coach and mentor.
Now, twelve years later, Jackson doesn’t think twice about returning to Quinn, Texas, to help out when Coach suffers a heart attack. It’s an opportunity to atone for past sins and prove he’s ready to give back to the close-knit community. And he knows just the person to help him—the same woman who brought him down all those years ago. A respected and beloved teacher, if Annabelle is willing to take a chance on him, everyone will know Jackson’s a new man.
But he’s not the only one who’s changed. Though she’s just as smart as he remembers, Annabelle is also sweet, kind, loyal—and hiding a surprisingly passionate woman behind her staid schoolteacher clothes. Suddenly proving himself to the town might be more difficult than he’d thought. Because while Jackson may have shed most of his wild ways, turns out nothing stirs his inner bad boy quite like Annabelle.
Excerpt:
“Hi, Jackson.”
Annabelle’s soft voice behind him felt as if she’d stroked her hand down his arm. Every muscle in his arm and his stomach tightened. And maybe a couple a little lower.
From a simple “hi”?
That reaction definitely drew Jackson’s attention from the conversation at the bar. It had been mostly small talk, a few questions about Coach, and him trying to nonchalantly feel people out about any land for sale. Not to mention trying, unsuccessfully, to work his desire to bring some of the city teens to Quinn into the conversation. He needed to know if Tom was the only one who was against the idea or if that was going to rile up everyone.
But the moment Annabelle said, “Hi, Jackson”, he forgot about everything but wanting to know how her hair smelled. Again.
He turned to face her fully.
Damn, she looked good.
That was the thought that first hit him. And it was strange. She was wearing one of those full skirts again that didn’t show a thing. But the image of her in yoga pants was branded on his brain and he could easily conjure it.
The memory made him grin. “Hey, Annabelle.”
She took a deep breath and looked, if he wasn’t mistaken, a little shy. “I was wondering if you’d dance with me.”
Dance with her? Oh, really?
“I’ve never ever turned down the chance to have a beautiful woman in my arms,” he said.
She flushed and Jackson almost grinned in satisfaction. He did so love making women blush and with Annabelle it seemed so easy. But he couldn’t quite grin. He was working too hard on not giving away how much he wanted to have her up against him.
What the hell was going on?
She smiled and the feeling got stronger.
“Great.” She started for the dance floor without waiting for him.
Jackson took a second to watch her go and changed his mind about not liking the flowing skirts. They weren’t as good as yoga pants or nothing at all, of course, but there was something about the way the silky material draped over her hips, and swung against then away from t
he curve of her ass, that made a man’s heart rate pick up.
It was kind of like the difference between flirting and outright telling a guy “I want you”.
The blatant “I want you” was very, very nice. But a good flirtation was equally compelling once in a while.
Jackson glanced at the other men at the bar. None were watching Annabelle walk away.
That was good.
He thought he might want to keep the secret of Annabelle’s cute butt to himself.
Jesus. Cute butt?
Jackson started after her. When she got the edge of the dance floor, she swung to face him and the skirt swirled around her.
Jackson noticed her boots immediately. Annabelle might have spent her teen years in tennis shoes but she was still a Texas girl and eventually they all wore cowboy boots. These were red though. Blood red. That did surprise him a bit though.
“Damn. Was hoping to catch a glimpse of that music thing again.” He stepped close and held out his arms, palms up, ready to two-step her around to some George Strait.
“Music thing?”
“Your tattoo.”
“The one on my foot?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Is there another one?” Oh, damn, please let there be another one.
“There is. In fact, there are several more.”
Yes. Now to convince her to show him where. “Several?”
She grinned. “Yes.”
She still wasn’t getting closer. He wiggled his fingers. “I’m not used to women taking so much time to get up against me,” he told her. “I feel like a dumbass here, Annabelle. Come on.”
She blinked, then seemed to register what he was talking about. She laughed, said, “Sorry,” and stepped into his arms.
His hand settled on her lower back, hers on his shoulder as he took her other hand in his. They began moving in the steps that every kid in Quinn knew from the time they could walk. A country two-step was right up there with learning the Pledge of Allegiance and their bedtime prayers.
They began swaying and he just looked at her. Annabelle Hartington smelled like cupcakes.
Finally she asked, “What?”
“Shh,” he told her. “I’m imagining your other tattoos.”
She looked startled for a moment, then her face relaxed into a knowing smile that women have been giving men since the Garden of Eden. It was a mix of fake innocence and I’ve-got-you-right-where-I-want-you.
Which made something hot throb deep inside Jackson. He was right where she wanted him? She wanted him anywhere?
“What about them?” she asked sweetly.
But he was starting to suspect there was a spicy side to Annabelle.
He tightened the arm around her, pulling her closer. “What they are. Where they are.”
She licked her bottom lip. “Why don’t you just ask me?”
“My imagination is a lot of fun.”
He was flirting with her. That wasn’t exactly a shock. Jackson usually had to try not to flirt when he was dancing with women in bars. No, the surprising thing was that Annabelle seemed to realize it.
She certainly didn’t strike him as the flirtatious party-girl type. Yet there was a recognition in her eyes that said she knew exactly what was going on.
And didn’t mind a bit.
Annabelle tipped her head to one side, her lips curled in a soft smile and her body moved closer to his as the song switched to Brad Paisley’s soft ballad She’s Everything.
“I can almost guarantee,” she said softly, “that you will never guess what the others are. And you will probably only guess where about half of them are.”
Flirting had just ratcheted up to seduction. He was pretty sure. That’s how this felt, anyway. The only thing making him wonder was the fact that this was Annabelle.
“How many are we talking?”
“Eight.”
He knew his eyes went wide. “You have eight tattoos?”
She nodded. “Seven besides the one you’ve seen.”
Of course they could be tiny. Little daisies didn’t need to take up a lot of skin. But eight?
He’d dated women with tattoos before. Lots of them, in some cases. They were gorgeous and sexy and he loved them.
But there was something very sweetly sexy about Annabelle having seven other hidden tattoos that he really, really liked. Maybe it was because it was unexpected. But he thought maybe it was more that these tattoos were obviously only for her. She hadn’t done it to be sexy—especially if the majority were hidden. She’d done it because she wanted to. They would say something about her.
He liked that most of all. And he really wanted to know what they were now.
His grip on her hand tightened and he dropped his voice to a husky growl. “I think instead of guessing, I’d rather go on a treasure hunt.”
To read more about Out of Bounds and Erin Nicholas’s other work, visit her website at www.ErinNicholas.com.
Going Long: Excerpt
by Cari Quinn
This time, he’ll need to hit all the right notes to win the woman he’s always loved…
Wade Bennett is used to coming in second to his seemingly perfect older brother. In high school, Colt was a star linebacker while Wade was the punter, an important job without all of the glory. When Charlene Martinez—the only girl Wade ever truly wanted—fell for Colt, Wade decided to take his chances with music and went on the road. Leaving behind his family, his best friend, Rafe, and Charlene, who had feelings for Wade she never allowed herself to feel.
Years in Nashville quickly hardened the dreamy guy who just wanted to sing and hang out with his dog. His success has given him more than enough money, even if he knows he’ll never be able to compete with his hometown hero big brother. But after Coach Carr’s heart attack, Wade comes home to help the man who helped him make the decision to chase his dreams all those years ago.
Now Wade wants to chase a new dream in his old hometown, especially since Charlene is single again after divorcing Colt. And Wade is no longer a boy unwilling to fight for what—and who—he needs.
Excerpt:
Charlene slammed the trunk and heaved the picnic basket, making it halfway around the car before she realized Lorelie’s vehicle wasn’t parked in the driveway. Uh-oh. She should’ve called and made sure they were home—
“Lookin’ for Coach?”
Charlene shaded her eyes and shifted to look up at the porch as the screen door slammed shut. And oh crap, she should not have done that. Did she really need to see Wade Bennett, shirtless and sweaty, standing in a patch of sun, dripping as if he were a living popsicle?
Damn, she wanted to lick him. A lot.
His hair was wet too. He must’ve just dunked it in the sink after working in the fields. That explained the beads of water gathering on his shoulders like diamonds. More diamonds sprinkled down his carved chest to the dark treasure trail that crept right into his mine—AKA his low-slung pants. Whoa, what a mine it was. He was either packing a giant piece of coal or else she wasn’t the only one dealing from a sudden bolt of inappropriate lust.
God, she was still staring. Could. Not. Stop.
“Charlene?” A hint of amusement entered his voice. “Honey, you look like you need a glass of lemonade. It’s mighty hot out here.”
“Picnic.” She held out her basket with its checkerboard blanket tossed jauntily over the handle. “I wanted Coach and Lorelie to go on one. And you know, leave the house while I cleaned it for them. Not saying it’s dirty, I just wanted to help out.” She took a breath. “So where are they?”
He laughed and oh sweet hell, she loved that sound. Even his music never sounded finer. “Come on in and we’ll get you that lemonade. That sun’s a killer.”
Being close to you while you’re half-naked will kill me first. But she only smiled and nodded before trotting up the steps as if she wasn’t the least bit concerned about spending any additional time in his sphere. Nope, no problemo. “You’re just not used to it anymore. This
isn’t all that hot.”
“Really?” He glanced down at her, his mouth still quirked. “Then why are you sweating?”
Oh Lord. She dabbed at the cleavage revealed by her yellow-and-white sundress. Not exactly cleaning clothes, granted, but she hadn’t been willing to take the chance of showing up and encountering Wade while wearing ratty clothes. She’d rather be extra careful while tidying up the ranch. “I did a workout right before coming over here,” she lied.
Great. So now he’d think she was a hot mess and had put on the sundress without taking a shower first. She should’ve just admitted that her admiration of him hadn’t just soaked her forehead and her cleavage, but her panties too.
They were definitely the biggest casualty of this war.
“Damn, and I missed it. I sure liked watching you the other night.” He leaned in and sniffed her hair. Actually sniffed her like a piece of meat. Which shouldn’t have been sexy, but so was. “Still smell like peaches. Is that your shampoo or some girly soap?”
“Neither. It’s my liniment.”
“Say what?”
She had to laugh. “I get sore muscles from working long hours at the feed store and mama’s restaurant. I use the liniment to help with them.” She nudged his elbow. “Surely you used liniment when you were on the team to help with aching muscles.”
“We didn’t call it liniment. And yeah, I’ve probably heard that term before, now that you mention it. It’s just been awhile.” He scratched his distractingly bare chest. “Does the yoga help too?”
“Absolutely. I couldn’t do everything I do if I didn’t practice yoga. Pilates too. They’ve helped my back immensely—hey, what are you doing?” she asked as he took the picnic basket out of her hands.
“You don’t need to be hauling around a big basket like this when I’m standing right here. What’s in here?” He poked open the top and sighed. “Ham and Swiss on rye? With mustard? Oh man. I’m starving.”