Fumbled Hearts (A Tender Hearts Novel)

by Meagan Brandy

  Winks. At. me.

  Halfway up the stairs, his mother’s voice rings out again. “We’re going to have a cup of coffee out back!” she tells us, adding in a rush, “Outweigh before you play!”

  Once inside Nate’s room, he shuts the door behind us.

  “What the hell did she just say?” I whisper-yell.

  He laughs and walks past me, stopping at his dresser. “Exactly what you think.” He pulls out a few t-shirts and sweats. “Weigh out the consequences versus the actions.” He turns with a grin, “Aka, no grandbabies allowed.”

  My brows jump. “So, she just gave us the clear to get down and dirty?”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” he chuckles, walking toward what appears to be a bathroom in his room. When he disappears through the door, I allow myself to look around.

  Surprisingly, his room is clean and neat.

  His walls are tan, thank God, with posters of random football players scattered sporadically across them, and a few small shelves, holding trophy after trophy from all his years of football.

  There is a large bed, not quite as big as mine, pushed against the left wall, his brown, wooden dresser and closet across from it. The window on the wall opposite the bed has a small gamer chair placed next to it. That’s when I notice the cinema-worthy TV hanging from the wall, game consoles beneath it on a nifty hanging stand.

  “Damn.”

  Nate’s arm wraps around me from behind. “Big, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  He laughs, reaching for my hand. “Come on.”

  He leads me into the bathroom, letting go of my hand to adjust the settings in the shower, so I start stripping down.

  “That should be good.” He glances over his shoulder quickly, doing a double take when he realizes I’m half-naked, shirt on the floor, jeans halfway down my hips.

  “Fuck,” he curses, frozen in place, his body still facing toward the shower, eyes on me.

  I lower my jeans the rest of the way, pulling the wet material from my body in a not at all sexy manner, but if his labored breath is any indication, he’s enjoying it.

  I duck under his arm into the steamy shower, his eyes following me. Stepping under the warm water, still wearing my pink thong, I wink at him and slide the door closed.

  I wait at least fifteen seconds - long enough for him to fight the internal battle and convince himself to walk away - then toss my underwear over the top of the shower and wait.

  Three, two…

  The shower door bursts open and Nate charges in, finding me leaning against the wall behind the spray of the water, waiting for him.

  He stops in front of the water, his gaze raking over every exposed inch of me, before settling on my face.

  “I can make this quick.” His eyes ask for permission.

  So confident. Sexy.

  A smile from me is all it takes for him to lift me by my thighs, and press me against the shower wall. Our mouths connect and I’m sinking down onto his bare dick in seconds.

  And he wasn’t wrong, ‘cause with little to no effort, he has me on edge – boy’s got moves.

  “Shhh,” Nate coos, his hand reaching for my chin, bringing my mouth back to his. He kisses me deeply to cover the moan that escapes when he grinds against me, as if he knew it was coming before I did, and I bite into his lip to keep from crying out.

  “There you go,” he whispers, never taking his eyes off me as I shudder in his arms. He rolls his hips once more before quickly setting me on my feet. Placing my limp hand over his dick, he helps me work him as he comes all over my stomach.

  His forehead drops to the wall over my right shoulder, while mine falls to his chest.

  After a few minutes, neither of us say anything as we both reach for the soap and clean ourselves off. When I go to rinse my hair of conditioner, Nate’s arms wrap around my body from behind.

  “Water’s getting cold,” he breathes into my neck, warming me all over again.

  “You tryin’ to warn me of some possible shrinkage?” I tease.

  “There’d still be plenty, even if there was shrinkage. Which there isn’t.”

  My laughter dies on my lips when his rough hands come up, cupping as much of my breasts as he can fit in his palms.

  “Step out of the shower, Kalani. Now,” he whispers into my ear. “Or else we’ll be in here for a while.” He nips at my earlobe. “I have no intentions of being quick next time around.”

  My head falls back against his shoulder. “I think I’ll stay right here then, thanks.”

  His laughter shakes both our bodies.

  Quickly, he releases me, gently shoving my wet body out of the shower, and closes the door.

  I laugh when I hear him adjust the setting again, presumably turning what’s left of the hot all the way down.

  After brushing out my hair, I go to put on the clothes Nate left out for me, but my whole body fits in one leg of his sweats. “Ugh, Nate. This stuff doesn’t fit!” I call out from his room.

  “Look around, grab whatever!”

  With his okay, I skim through the shirts in his closet, pausing when I come to his jersey. I pull it out, turning it to see his last name stitched in big, bold, red letters, the number twenty-one large and proud beneath it. Smiling, I place it back on the rack.

  I end up finding a white wife beater, and use it as a stand in for a bra. I throw a navy blue, long-sleeved thermal that hangs just above my knees over it. The black tube socks I pull on are so large there’s only a good three inches of skin showing between them the shirt, so I decide a rolled-up pair of Nate’s briefs is enough for under.

  Nate comes out of the bathroom, his hair dripping and towel wrapped tightly around his waist, stopping at the foot of the bed I’m currently sprawled across.

  “That,” he motions with his head to my body. “Yeah. You keep that.” His tongue runs across his bottom lip and I can’t help but laugh.

  One knee starts to lift onto the mattress.

  “Oh, no!” My eyes go wide and I fly off the bed. “The safety of the loud shower was one thing, but no way in hell right here, right now, with nothing for your parents to hear but that bed post knocking.”

  He stares at me for a few seconds, before the lust fades and he nods in agreement. “Right.” He dashes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with more urgency than necessary.

  Once he steps back into the room, fully dressed, he makes his way to the door, turning to look at me with a goofy grin in place. “Lead the way, Ms. Embers.” He winks.

  This should be interesting.

  When I was little, I watched my parents interact with each other, as I’m sure most kids did. I remember them holding hands sometimes, and quick kisses on the lips and cheek. I remember my dad’s arm around my mom and her head on his shoulder when we would snuggle on the couch to watch a movie. They loved each other. I know they did. But standing here, watching Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, I’m wondering if I even know what that means.

  As soon as my foot hit the last stair, Nate snapped his fingers and said he’d be down in a second, before deserting me and running back up the stairs. I shrugged it off and followed the smell of freshly-brewed coffee, only pausing when I heard a soft whisper, followed by warm laughter.

  So now, here I sit, perched on the edge of a floral print couch, watching two people I know virtually nothing about, float across the cherry hardwood floors in the gentlest sway I’ve ever seen. Their noses are kissing, their eyes shining into each other’s souls as thier lips move in a beautifully private conversation. They’re oblivious to my spying eyes - as they should be in an ambrosial moment like this.

  His arms are wrapped tight around her, her palms resting on his chest as if she can’t fathom the thought of not touching him.

  My chest tightens. The sight is too tender, too raw and real.

  The love between these two strangers is pouring off them in sovereign waves, and I’m about to drown.

  When her smile widens as he
leans in, I turn away, not wanting to steal any pieces from her. That’s when I see Nate standing behind me, a soft, adoring smile on his face. But his eyes aren’t on his parents; they’re on me.

  I turn back toward the kitchen, not understanding why, but needing nonetheless to try to experience such a passionate, unyielding love - if only ever by sight.

  But when I turn, finding Mr. Monroe running his fingertips down his wife’s temple, watching as he gently sweeps her dark hair behind her ear, all the blood in my body runs cold and I fly off the couch.

  Nate sees it, the moment I’m about to bolt.

  He’s quick.

  I don’t get a step away before his hands are cupping my cheeks and he’s kissing me, soft and slow. Slow and soft.

  The muscles in my body start to warm, slowly releasing tension with each stroke of his tongue against mine, and suddenly I’m melting against him.

  “Kids?”

  We break apart when his mother calls out.

  With a wink, Nate reaches for my hand, which I high five and walk past.

  As soon as we come into view, a beautiful smile takes over his mother’s face. She wipes her hands against her apron and steps in front of me.

  “Hi, Lolli. It’s nice to meet you,” she beams.

  And I smile back, a completely genuine smile I didn’t know I had, not missing she called me Lolli, and not Kalani, as her son does.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Monroe.”

  “Oh, no…” She laughs and walks around the kitchen island. “Call me Sara.” She pulls out several coffee mugs. “And this guy…” she hip-checks her husband as he sets some creamer down beside her, “is Ian. We’ll expect nothing else.”

  “Alright,” I laugh and hop up onto the bar stool across from where they stand. As soon as my butt hits the stool, the name clicks and I gape at Mr. Monroe.

  “Ian Monroe?” I raise an eyebrow and Nate chuckles beside me.

  “Uh-huh.” His dad narrows his eyes in a playful challenge, one I’m betting he thinks I’ll fall flat on. He’s so wrong.

  “Wow.” My eyes widen. “Two-time College Bowl MVP.” I nod my head, impressed by the memory. “You still hold the record for the most sacks in a college championship game.”

  With a shake of my head, I laugh, continuing, “That last sack, when you made Henry Michaels fumble the ball and Tommy Brown picked it up, running it back for a game-winning defensive touchdown…that’s movie shit right there.”

  “You a stats girl?” Ian tilts his head, gauging me.

  “I’m a defense girl.” I shrug. “And I remember the good stuff. Store it in my brain for times like these,” I tell him, tapping my head with my pointer finger.

  His dad grins from ear to ear, his chest puffing out slightly.

  “Oh, holy hell…” Sara mutters. “She’s perfect.”

  My eyes fly to her and her stunned face slowly transforms into a big, bright smile that radiates through her eyes.

  Nate leans over and kisses my temple, a proud grin on his face.

  I don’t miss the quick glance both his parents throw his way as he does it.

  “We heard you were a fan of the game, but that...” Sara laughs, handing me a mug.

  “Fan doesn’t quite cover it.” I grin. “But yes, I love football.”

  “Why is that?” Mr. Monroe – Ian - quips, a smile tugging at his lips.

  “Fans fade for hundreds of different reasons.” I take a slow sip of my coffee, savoring the rich creaminess, all the while biding time.

  “Me and football, we go way back. I was literally on the field in the womb.” I laugh lightly, looking out the large window that overlooks the hillside. “Football’s more a way of life than anything else, in my eyes anyway. I love the hot summer days and cool winter nights. The ambience of the crowd is enough to excite you sometimes, and the smell. But the dedication behind each player,” I smile, “that’s my favorite part. It’s a controllable magic, driven by pure determination that most people take for granted.” I shrug, facing forward again.

  All three sets of eyes are on me, all wearing completely different expressions, each one overwhelming in their own way.

  I clear my throat. “Well, all that and a bunch of muscles in tight wrapping,” I joke, bumping Nate’s shoulder.

  Nate groans, Ian grins, and Sara throws her head back with a laugh.

  Crisis averted.

  “I bet that will be a treat come college, grown men in tight pants,” Sara winks at me. “For you and me both.”

  “Not funny, woman,” Ian scowls at his wife. Walking up behind her, he wraps his arms around her possessively and pulls her against him. She laughs, dropping her head back, allowing him to kiss her forehead, and Nate’s arm chooses that moment to snake around me. I force myself to keep my breathing steady.

  Sara smiles at me, her eyes dropping to Nate’s hand around my body, catching his fingertips brushing up and down my ribs, then back to mine with a newfound softness in them. “Would you stay for dinner?”

  Before I can decline, because I was planning on it, both Nate and Ian answer for me. “She’ll stay,” Nate says, as Ian blurts out, “’Course she will.”

  My mouth drops open, and I look to Sara, who’s laughing lightly. “How the hell do you survive with two Alphas in one pack?”

  She steps away from her husband, placing an oven mitt over her right hand. “I had Kenra to help me balance ‘em out.” She pulls a heavenly smelling dish from the oven. “Now I’m outnumbered and losing my mind.” She laughs, smacking Ian’s hand when he tries to pick an olive off the top of the cheesy concoction.

  “Just so we’re clear,” Ian raises an eyebrow. “I am the Alpha.”

  “Got it.” I hide my smile while Nate rolls his eyes.

  A few minutes later, we’re sitting around a picnic-style kitchen table, eating Nate’s mom’s ‘Chicken Enchilada Pie’.

  “So,” Sara begins, and my mind starts screaming, telling me it’s time to bow out, but I force a welcoming smile instead, “you have a very beautiful name.”

  “Thank you.” I cut a glance at Nate, unsure of what to do here. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not so sure I can get through a ‘let’s get to know you’ conversation, as simple as it may be.

  His eyes lock on mine, and he brushes his thigh against me, somehow easing my mind in the process. When a deep breath leaves me, he drops his head, grinning into his plate as he goes in for a bite.

  Shithead.

  “Um,” I clear my throat, turning back to Sara. “My parents spent a lot of their time in Hawaii. I guess, on their first trip back after finding out I was on the way, the first person to greet them off the plane was a beautiful woman with dark hair and light eyes named Kalani. They said it was a sign. The fact that I was born with dark hair and light eyes was somehow confirmation it was meant to be.” I laugh lightly, stabbing a piece of chicken with my fork. “Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that I look just like my mom. My parents were total hippies,” I tell them, rolling my eyes, earning laughs all around.

  “Do you not share that?” Sara tilts her head, her soft eyes shining in my direction. “Not believe in fate?” Her question is genuine, so I answer.

  “Not really, no. That would mean that all the bad happens so, in the end, one good thing can. I don’t see how so many negatives could ever be worth one positive.”

  “Sometimes the answers aren’t so simple,” Ian offers softly. “Sometimes we go through things we shouldn’t so, in the end, we come out stronger.”

  “But are we?” I hold his gaze. “Stronger? Or are we so broken that at the first sign of ‘good’, we latch on in hopes to forget the bad? To erase it as if that makes it any better? That’s not being strong, that’s confirming you’re weak.”

  “It’s called healing, Lolli, not forgetting. Not erasing. There’s always an up after a down,” he says quietly, and Nate squeezes my thigh under the table. “It just takes some of us a little longer to find it, that’s all.
”

  Aaand bonding time is over.

  I laugh it off. This is just a conversation, right?

  So why do I want to scream?

  With a polite smile, I stand, and nod at both Ian and Sara. “Thank you for dinner and everything today, but I should go.” I turn to Nate. “I’ll call Parker and wait outside for him.”

  Nate’s eyes narrow and I can see he’s about to argue, so I narrow mine in return, sending him a silent message.

  You really want to do this right here, right now?

  He knows exactly what I just thought, and he doesn’t give a shit.

  His sexy, troublemaking, panty-wetting smirk takes over his handsome face, and he stands to tower over me, forcing my head to lift.

  “I’m taking you. Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you out front,” he tells me, before spinning and leaving me standing there.

  Stubborn, sexy bastard.

  Ian’s roar of laughter has my head swinging in his direction. I glance at Sara and find her trying to hold back her snickers.

  “My internal monologue doesn’t seem to work when it comes to him.”

  Sara grins, placing her hand over Ian’s. “I have the same problem.”

  Right.

  I go to lift my plate from the table.

  “Please,” Sara’s hand comes out, her smile only growing, “leave it.”

  I wave at Ian, who’s still wiping tears from his eyes and head for the door.

  Once I step onto the porch, my feet carry me to the swing. Running my fingertips over the blanket, I smile, dropping myself down slowly. The moment my eyes close, I hear footsteps, and the open again to find Ian standing before me.

  “Care for a swing?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

  I don’t much feel like sharing this place with Nate’s dad, but it’s his house, and his and his wife’s swing, after all. “Sure.” I incline my head and pat the seat next to me.

  He gives a few pushes before speaking. “About two years ago, I was on a business trip in California.” Shit. “I ran into an old friend from college while I was there,” he says softly and my body grows tense. “He played for the Tomahawks, my friend.”

  “He must have been a good football player,” I respond, not looking at him.