by Rie Warren
Akoni, Marquis, Bunyan, Calder, Cross . . . hell, even Luke Buckley had gotten an invite.
Akoni already had a big hankie pressed to his eyes, his wife’s hand gripped in his, and their brood in the surrounding seats.
Coach D turned toward Rafe and me one last time. “Pre-wedding pep talk? Do I need to?”
Coach wore a suit like mine, and he stood at the head of the altar. He’d gotten ordained when Peyton asked him to officiate. Word on the street was he’d teared up, Akoni-style, at the request, not that we’d ever fucking breathe a word about that. Otherwise he’d have us tearing up and down the field during practice.
“No, sir, Coach.” Rafe spoke up in a deep voice. “I got this.”
Coach rubbed the top of his dark bald head then folded his hands in front of him. “Good. And no honeymoon until we win the Super Bowl.”
“I don’t think that’s in my contract—” Rafe started smartassing, but then the “Wedding March” began.
“Oh, shit,” he breathed out. “It’s time.”
I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “This is the day you’ve been waiting for.”
His gaze remained trained on the short aisle from the porch to the sand below. Callum and Liv came out of the house first, holding hands. Liv—older than her nephew by about six years—whispered into Callum’s ear. The russet-haired boy grinned at his dad, dimples all over.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw Rafe press his fist to his lips, his green eyes sheened with dampness. Christ Almighty, I was about to choke up, too.
When his kid sister and his son pulled up at the altar, he fist-tapped Liv then crouched down as Callum beckoned him closer.
“Daddy! Mommy looks like that princess.”
“I bet she does. I can’t wait to see her.” He kissed the top of the boy’s head, his voice cracking.
When Peyton and Philomena—Coach D’s daughter, the maid of honor who was also giving Peyton away—emerged together, Rafe crackled with energy.
“Jesus Christ.” He craned forward, as if he could draw his fiancée-almost-wife to him faster. “She’s . . . she’s fucking stunning.”
I briefly muffled Liv and Callum before they could ruin the whole moment shouting swear jar.
Peyton and Phil looked beautiful—total opposites. Peyton with the fiery red hair and creamy skin, Phil with the short dark-cropped ’do and ebony skin. Peyton didn’t wear a veil. Her dress was simple, elegant, clingy, the perfect complement to her coloring. Christ, maybe I’d been spending too much time with Frankie the Tailor.
They approached slowly through the crowd of friends and family, and with each step Rafe breathed more shallowly.
Gracie grasped Peyton’s hand for a second, giving a silent blessing, and then she was at the altar.
I hoped Rafe didn’t pass out at her feet, because that would totally ruin the whole moment. He stared at Peyton, and her eyes clung to his.
“Who gives this woman away?” Coach D directed the question to Phil.
“Oh, Dad. Don’t be so old school. Peyton gave herself away.” She passed her BFF’s hand over to Rafe. “To a daaamn fine specimen too.”
“Hands off, sister. He’s mine.” Peyton’s light jab made those around her laugh, all except Rafe, whose look remained one of pure awe.
And as Peyton stepped up to him, her breath caught and held.
We faced Coach D. “Dearly beloved . . . it’s about damn time.”
As everyone from Peyton to Rafe to the gathered witnesses cracked up, Coach’s lips spread in a wide grin. “If you ask me, this was six years in the making, but I couldn’t be happier to see these two—Peyton Fox and Rafe Macintyre—finally get it together.”
Another wave of laughter filtered through the crowd.
“We’re going to keep the ceremony short and simple, because I know more about football plays than presiding over nuptials.” He bent his head then looked up with somber eyes. “But mostly because I know how much Peyton and Rafe belong together.”
Rafe’s gaze never left Peyton’s face, and her lips parted, her fingers squeezing his.
True to his word, after the opening crowd pleaser, Coach talked them through their vows, which were only slightly altered from the traditional I dos. Like when Peyton said, “And I promise to get you into classic rock, because seriously? Justin Bieber?”
He guffawed as did everyone else.
And when Rafe pressed both her hands to his chest. And vowed, “I promise to teach you how to make edible pancakes if it’s the last thing I do.”
She shook her head, her face glowing.
“Amen to that!” Callum piped up.
“I’ll be yours forever.”
“My heart belongs to you.”
“In sickness and in health.”
“Until death do us part.”
Those final vows said, immense love shone through each low soft word. Turning my head, I found and focused on Delaney. Emotions poured between us, connecting us, as she drew a fingertip beneath her damp eyes, a pure smile on her lips.
“The rings please?” Coach D hunkered down toward Callum, ruffling his hair.
“I lost the rings, Daddy!” Callum’s mouth dropped open as he patted the pockets of his tot-sized suit.
“Um, well, we can just use—”
“Kidding!” Callum beamed, pulling the two bands from his suit jacket.
“Very funny.” Rafe mock-scowled at his boy.
Seconds later the rings were exchanged, both their hands even more wobbly than when I’d asked Delaney to marry me, and singeing heat rolled off the newlyweds.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife! At last!” Laughter circled through those gathered. “You may kiss the bride.”
Rafe didn’t take that duty lightly. No sirree. I thought about putting my hands over Callum’s eyes as Rafe dipped Peyton into a devouring kiss, but what the hell? They probably went at it like that all the time at home.
Instead I found Delaney again, and I wanted to do the same damn thing to her.
After Rafe broke the lip-lock it was time for full-on congrats. It was like a signing event without the Sharpies. Hugs, knuckle bumps, cheek kisses, hand shakes . . .
“You done good, bro.” I held onto Rafe for a moment. “Happy for you.”
Sliding back, he nodded, his throat bobbing. “Probably wouldn’t have made it without you.”
“If you make me turn into Akoni 2.0 right now, I’ll whup your ass.”
He chuckled, turning to the next well-wisher.
“Keep him out of trouble, right?” I hugged Peyton.
“I thought that was your job.” She drew back, smiling.
“Not anymore, sister. You’re on your own.”
Leaving the staging, I made a beeline to Delaney. She stood, smoking hot and sexy, in the middle of her Cougar pack.
“Don’t you look foxy and fine today.” Raquel swept her eyes up and down Delaney’s figure.
I couldn’t agree more. If we did anymore eye-fucking I’d lose it inside my pants. That time for real.
I captured Delaney to me, dropping my lips to graze them along her neck.
“Hoowee!” Sammy catcalled. “Getting hot up in here.”
I released Delaney, saying how-do to her friends, who did some eye-fucking of their own. But they knew I was off limits, and they didn’t cross the line.
I was taken. So very taken.
“So, hombre, when are you gonna make an honest woman out of Delaney?” Lourdes purred.
Her posse didn’t even know about the engagement. We wanted to announce it at just the right time.
Delaney tucked her fingers in mine as I stumbled over my own tongue.
“Maybe I don’t want to be an honest woman but a naughty one?” She licked her lips with a wink.
Then I almost bit my tongue in half. Because yes and please. The naughty nasty part. Soon. Please.
“And that’s what I’m talking about.” Raquel’s husky laughter gurgled from her throat.
Charmaine—Marquis’s wife—started to get in line until he grabbed her arm.
“What?” she asked. “I like flowers.”
The smooth dude with the sick dreads just rolled his eyes as Charm wagged her fingers and swished off to join the line-up.
“Go on.” I nudged Delaney.
“Not.” She snorted.
“Go on.” I propelled her forward.
Bunyan dragged Calder with him, looking ready to knock any contender to the ground to get to the bride’s bouquet.
Rafe shook his head at the group from his stance beside Peyton as she turned around, flowers in hand.
“One. Two. Three!” Phil sounded off, and Peyton let fly.
Whaddya know? Dozens of women jumped up, jostled one another, maybe even went mean girl to get their hands on the bouquet. Thank God Bunyan didn’t go all mosh pit on everyone, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in it to win it. The bright flowers flipped end over end over end then landed . . . smack dab in Calder’s hands. Like a reflex and the bouquet was a football magnetized to his palms.
“Dammit, man.” Bunyan folded his arms over his chest, almost breaking through the seams of his suit jacket. “You were supposed to be my wingman.”
Calder gazed at the flowers like they were an alien lifeform he held away from his body. “Don’t worry. Marriage ain’t happening for me.”
Things that make me go hmmmm.
After that, Delaney and I made the rounds. We stayed together, and more often than not I kept my hand as close to her ass as decently possible. Dinner was served as evening drew in—the December night growing cooler but the huge outdoor heaters blasting out warmth.
The salty scent of the ocean. Fresh seafood cooked perfectly. Champagne by the magnum. Nice bash.
I made sure I didn’t drink too much. Speeches were yet to come, and I didn’t want to fuck up Rafe’s wedding or screw up in front of Delaney.
Coach D rose from his chair first, dinging his glass with a fork. “Peyton didn’t ask me to give a speech. She gave me the best honor of all when she asked me to officiate. I said yes . . . because it was either that or she swore she’d fire me.”
Peyton laughed with everyone else, her fingers threaded through Rafe’s.
“But in all seriousness, it’s been almost a year since Billy Fox, her beloved father and Carolina Crush’s owner, passed away, and I know how hard it’s been on her and young Callum. Peyton relocated, she took over the team, she gave us holy hell. And she proves herself as an owner, a coach in her own right, as a mother every day, and now, a wife to the man she loves.” He bent his head in her direction. “I know your dad would be as bursting with pride for you as I am. TO PEYTON AND RAFE!”
Holy shit. I squeezed Delaney’s hand, remembering Billy Fox’s tough-love-gritty-go-get-’em spirit. Hard to believe it was just a year ago, the team tanking out, our owner suddenly deceased, wondering if Crush would be sold.
And yeah, Peyton had shown true grit, she hadn’t steered us wrong. We still had a shot at the playoffs, and she and Rafe were finally together.
Tears glimmering, Peyton kissed Coach D’s cheek. “Thank you.”
Hell, I wanted to kiss his cheek.
“Why you always gotta show me up, Dad?” Phil stood from her spot at Peyton’s side. “I got a lot of dirt I could spill on the lovely Peyton here . . . but I guess there are just too many kids present.” She sent a wink to her bestie. “Once upon a time I thought she’d have a single relationship status forever. So, being the good friend I am, I set her up on a bunch of dating sites.”
“Oh, really?” Rafe drawled, his eyebrows high.
“Mm hmm. But Peyton wouldn’t have anything to do with Tinder or Bumble. And I finally figured out why.” Phil tipped her glass at the married couple. “My girl—”
“My girl,” Rafe coughed.
“Was already in love. Had been for years. And even though Rafe and Peyton weren’t together—as soon as I saw them in the same room for the first time—it was clear. No matter how many years passed, they were meant for one another.” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Well, crap. I think I’m gonna cry.”
Peyton gave a watery chuckle and grasped her hand.
“To passion. To victory. To a love that won’t quit!” Phil took a quick drink. “There. I kept it short and simple, just like Peyton’s wedding dress.”
More laughter, and now I was really getting nervy about my speech.
“To Rafe and Peyton!”
“I’m so getting you back when it’s your turn,” Peyton hissed to Phil, but her grin was huge.
Delaney patted my hand and kissed my cheek, whispering, “You’ll be great. Just remember not to swear.”
When I stood up, all eyes were drawn to me. “Fantastic. Even my own woman doesn’t have any confidence in my speech writing abilities.” I winked at Delaney.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Winning
Brooklyn
“THAT’S NOT WHAT I said at all.” Delaney rolled her eyes, chuckling.
“To be honest, there’s not a whole lot I can say about this man with his mom”—I nodded toward Gracie—“his sister”—I lifted a finger toward Liv—“and his son”—
“That’s me!” Callum jumped up and down.
“In the crowd. So short and simple, it’s gonna have to be since I gotta keep this PG-rated.”
Snickers.
“In all sincerity, Rafe, you’ve been a brother to us guys. A leader of the team too.” I laid a hand on his shoulder. “The beating heart of Carolina Crush even though we went through some dark times last season. You came back to life on and off the field as soon as Peyton returned where she belongs. As our owner, and your wife.” I dipped my glass at her. “You’re one lucky son of a . . . gun.”
“Rafe and Peyton!”
“One more thing,” I said after the toast. “That nonfraternization policy can suck it!” Pulling Delaney to my side, I gave her a quick smooch. “In fact, since my man Rafe paved the way with Peyton, I asked this fine woman to marry me. And, unbelievably, she said yes.”
There were gasps in the crowd as I presented Delaney’s hand with the bright ring finally on her finger for all to see. “Sorry, Calder. You ain’t up next, bouquet or not.”
“That’s a weight off my shoulders,” he called out.
Claps and whistles and congrats poured over us, and of course the Cougar girls squeezed up to Delaney.
“You promised no more secrets!” Sammy accused, but she kissed Delaney on both cheeks.
“Sly bitch.” Raquel grinned.
Lourdes said a bunch of words in Spanish I didn’t understand but figured they amounted to you should’ve told us sooner, but we’re so happy for you . . . Or something like that.
“Hope we didn’t steal your thunder,” I said to Rafe as I sat back down.
“Not at all. You see, we got one more thing to announce.”
Peyton and Rafe rose together, arms around one another. “Hey, y’all! Before we get the real party started, Peyton has something to say.”
“You do it,” she urged.
“I think you should,” he murmured.
“Someone better damn do it, because I’m ready for cake,” Bunyan heckled.
“Peyton’s . . .” Rafe’s voice broke and his cheeks flushed. “Peyton’s pregnant!”
Callum whooped and hollered, pretty much everyone did. Delaney watched with a smile on her lips, wiping little tears from her eyes.
“You okay there?” I asked, handing her my handkerchief.
“Of course. I’m so happy for them. They deserve it so much.”
She was right. But Delaney deserved the same thing, and I knew how much she wanted a family of her own.
Akoni bumrushed Peyton, dragging her into a bone-crusher hug.
“Hey! Delicate condition and
all that,” Rafe groused.
“That’s beautiful, man.” Akoni got the weepies again, treating Rafe to the same back-breaker of a hug.
“Yeah. But I’m not having three more, Akoni.” Peyton rolled her eyes.
“You’re not?” Rafe teased.
Aaaaand finally there was cake. The garter toss. Dancing. Through it all I couldn’t keep my eyes off Delaney. And I didn’t wanna keep my hands off her any longer either.
The dancing didn’t help the need for her building from deep inside. Holding her tight against me, I drew my palms from the top of her shoulders to the bottom dip of her spine before her ass swelled. Her breasts pressed against my chest, and my thoughts lingered on the sexy little bra and panty set beneath her dress. My kisses whispered along the side of her neck, and my groin throbbed hungrily, pressed against her belly.
“You warm enough?” I asked, the rumble of my voice lowering in volume.
“You always keep me warm.” Snuggling deeper into my embrace, she rocked her hips in a sinful move.
“I like to keep you hot,” I murmured.
“That too.” On her tiptoes, her pelvis cushioned my dick.
“Then can I take you home now?” There might’ve been a whine to my voice. “I did my speech. We had cake. We danced.”
I was about ready to Carolina Crush her with my pent-up cock.
“You can take me home now.” Her tongue trailed up my neck to where my beard started.
I blew out a breath. “About damn time.”
When we got to the truck I wanted to jam my tongue in her mouth, my cock in her cunt, slam her against the hood, and make out with her for a long hot time, but I knew if I started I wouldn’t stop, and fucking in Rafe’s driveway wasn’t exactly ideal.
I helped Delaney into the Ford, my gaze searing a path along her legs.
Another pulse of blood flooded my cock making it harder than hard.
Once on the road, she shifted toward me. Her fingers drew lazy patterns on my tensed thigh, closer and closer to the drill hard dick forming a hard roll in my briefs.