Nashville Rebel

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  And love, Sophie thought. So much love.

  The sex was ragged, but the commitment between them was gentle. They took a moment to savor it.

  “Together,” she whispered.

  “Always,” he whispered back, thrusting warm and deep.

  She kissed him, and they tumbled over the bed again, locked in intensity. They messed up the covers, knocking pillows onto the floor. His body tensed, his abs rippled.

  She thrashed beneath him, and he tossed back his head and spilled into her. She came, too, his climax jump-starting hers.

  In the afterglow, he held her. She didn’t know how much time passed, but the room was still brightly lit and immersed in daylight. Eventually, their breathing slowed and the sheen of sweat on their bodies evaporated. When they separated, they retrieved the fallen pillows and rested their heads on them.

  “If I had already proposed to you, I would ask you to marry me all over again,” he finally said.

  “And I would say yes again.” She would marry him a million times.

  He shifted onto his elbow. “I can’t believe we almost lost each other.”

  “I’m so glad we didn’t.” She turned to look at him. “Are we still going to tell our donor story in your dad’s biography?”

  “Sure. Why not? Only now it’ll be a story about friends who made a baby and fell in love.” He skimmed a hand down her stomach. “Are you going to let me attend your doctor visits now that we’re a couple?”

  “Yes, of course, and I’m not going to care who sees us or Tweets about it. If I’m going to be your wife, then I’m going to have to get friendlier with your fans. I might have to start Tweeting more myself. I can even change my Twitter handle to Mrs. Tommy Talbot.”

  “You’ll be famous, too.” He kept touching her tummy, his fingertips light and gentle. “Speaking of which, you’ll have to get used to having your own bodyguard. And walking red carpets.” He circled her navel. “Will you go to the CMAs with me?”

  “I’d be honored.” She smiled. “It’ll be our first date without wearing masks.”

  He smiled, as well. “Can I announce our engagement to the press at the after-parties?”

  “You most certainly can.” She didn’t want to keep anything hidden anymore, not after what they’d just been through. “You can tell them you’re going to be a daddy, too.”

  “Really?” He searched her gaze. “You don’t want to wait until the first trimester is over?”

  “I don’t want to wait for anything.” She wanted the world to know that she and Tommy were going to be parents. “I’m not worried about jinxing it anymore, not with as happy as I am.”

  “Who knew we could be this kind of happy?” He made a perplexed expression. “I wonder if Brandon will ever find anyone.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You’re concerned about your brother’s bachelorhood?” First he was trying to help Kara and Dan stay together, and now he was thinking about Brandon. Sophie couldn’t help but be amused. Tommy the matchmaker. “I wouldn’t mess with your brother’s love life if I were you. I don’t think he would appreciate that.”

  “I’m not going to say anything to him about it. But now that I have you, and Matt has Libby, he’s going to be the odd man out.”

  “If he’s meant to find someone, he will.”

  “Yeah. You’re right. If there’s a woman out there for him, he’ll drive her as crazy as I drove you.”

  Sophie moistened her lips. “You Talbot men are a dangerous breed.” She glanced down. He’d pulled up his jeans, but he hadn’t zipped them all the way. She ran her hand along the denim. “I’m going to want you again.”

  He climbed on top of her. “That can be arranged.”

  They kissed, and he rubbed against her, showing her that he wanted her again, too. Hot and dreamy, she thought.

  For the rest of their lives.

  Epilogue

  The wedding was beautiful, exactly as Tommy and Sophie had planned it. She loved every moment of it. For now, they were at the reception, mingling with their guests inside the mansion.

  They’d exchanged vows in the garden, beneath a billowy tent, with the jeweled tiger standing guard. She wore a long silk white dress, similar to the gown her mom had worn when she’d wedded Sophie’s dad. She definitely felt her parents’ presence, like angels from above.

  Tommy’s family was in full swing. Kirby had walked Sophie down the aisle with pride, and Melinda had lit a glittery gold candle with a romantic scent.

  Chance had been a fabulous ring bearer. They’d decided that Hokey and Pokey could walk with him, and he’d gotten a kick out of the dogs being his loyal companions.

  Matt and Libby had done their parts, too. And Brandon. He’d looked exceptional in his tux, standing beside the groom.

  Sophie’s groom. She glanced across the room at him. At the moment, he was engaged in conversation with a group of their guests.

  She placed her hand on her growing belly. Tommy was right about their child. They were having a girl. They hadn’t come up with a name for her yet, so they were still calling her Peanut. Sometimes Tommy called her Miss Peanut.

  “How’s my new sister-in-law?” a voice asked from behind her.

  She spun around to meet Brandon’s gaze. He’d brought a date to the wedding, one of the socialites he sometimes bedded. But it wasn’t serious. It never was with Brandon. His date was off sipping champagne somewhere.

  “I’m wonderful,” Sophie said. “How are you?”

  “I’m doing just fine.” He leaned in close, his black hair shining beneath the chandelier above their heads. “This is a smashing event. But Tommy always did know how to throw a party.”

  “He does have his talents. But so do you.” She reached for his hand. “The Talbots wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “Right.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m the one always trying to keep the rest of them out of trouble. But I don’t have to worry about Tommy anymore. He’s your responsibility now. Then again, I guess he always was. The two of you, like peas in a pod. I should have figured out that you’d get married one day. But I was too busy seeing Tommy for the rebel that he was.”

  She nodded. “We all were.”

  “You’re the best addition this family could ever have. I’m so glad you and my brother are together now.”

  “Thank you.” She thought about Tommy’s hope that Brandon found the love of his life someday. But she wasn’t going to say anything about it. She’d already warned Tommy to stay out of Brandon’s affairs.

  Speaking of her husband, he was making his way over to her. Sophie glanced past Brandon and smiled at her man.

  “I think this is my cue to leave.” Brandon released her hand. “The groom is enticing his bride.”

  “He does have that effect on me.” As Brandon left, he passed Tommy and patted him on the shoulder.

  Eager to be near her husband, Sophie walked straight into his arms. Nothing felt more natural, more glorious, more right.

  “This has been the best day of my life so far,” she said. She knew they were going to have lots of amazing days.

  “Me, too.” He kissed her, soft and slow. Then he said, “I wrote a special song for you.”

  He’d been working on the album inspired by her and the baby, but she assumed this was something she’d yet to hear. “You’re going to serenade me?”

  He roamed his hands along the fabric-covered buttons marching down the back of her gown. “Yes. But it’s a sexy song, so it’ll have to wait until we’re in bed.”

  “Mmm.” She bumped against him. “A honeymoon song.”

  “Yep.” He circled her waist. “For my naked wife.”

  “I’m not naked yet.” But tonight she would be stripping off her dress for him. The country star she’d just married, the friend and lover who would always have her he
art.

  * * *

  Brandon’s story is next!

  Look for the third installment of

  the Sons of Country series

  by Sheri WhiteFeather,

  coming March 2019

  from

  Harlequin Desire.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from His Until Midnight by Reese Ryan.

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  His Until Midnight

  by Reese Ryan

  One

  Tessa Noble stared at the configuration of high and low balls scattered on the billiard table.

  “I’m completely screwed,” she muttered, sizing up her next move. After a particularly bad break and distracted play, she was losing badly.

  But how on earth could she be expected to concentrate on billiards when her best friend Ryan Bateman was wearing a fitted performance T-shirt that highlighted every single pectoral muscle and his impressive biceps. He could have, at the very least, worn a shirt that fit, instead of one that was a size too small, as a way to purposely enhance his muscles. And the view when he bent over the table in a pair of broken-in jeans that hugged his firm ass like they were made for it...

  How in the hell was she expected to play her best?

  “You’re not screwed,” Ryan said in a deep, husky voice that was as soothing as a warm bath. Three parts sex-in-a-glass and one part confidence out the wazoo.

  Tessa’s cheeks heated, inexplicably. Like she was a middle schooler giggling over double entendres and sexual innuendo.

  “Maybe not, but you’d sure as hell like to be screwed by your best friend over there,” Gail Walker whispered in her ear before taking another sip of her beer.

  Tessa elbowed her friend in the ribs, and the woman giggled, nearly shooting beer out of her nose.

  Gail, always a little too direct, lacked a filter after a second drink.

  Tessa walked around the billiard table, pool cue in hand, assessing her options again while her opponent huffed restlessly. Finally, she shook her head and sighed. “You obviously see something I don’t, because I don’t see a single makeable shot.”

  Ryan sidled closer, his movements reminiscent of a powerful jungle cat stalking prey. His green eyes gleamed even in the dim light of the bar.

  “You’re underestimating yourself, Tess,” Ryan murmured. “Just shut out all the noise, all the doubts, and focus.”

  She studied the table again, tugging her lower lip between her teeth, before turning back to him. “Ryan, I clearly don’t have a shot.”

  “Go for the four ball.” He nodded toward the purple ball wedged between two of her opponent’s balls.

  Tessa sucked in a deep breath and gripped the pool cue with one hand. She pressed her other hand to the table, formed a bridge and positioned the stick between her thumb and forefinger, gliding it back and forth.

  But the shot just wasn’t there.

  “I can’t make this shot.” She turned to look at him. “Maybe you could, but I can’t.”

  “That’s because you’re too tight, and your stance is all wrong.” Ryan studied her for a moment, then placed his hands on either side of her waist and shifted her a few inches. “Now you’re lined up with the ball. That should give you a better sight line.”

  Tessa’s eyes drifted closed momentarily as she tried to focus on the four ball, rather than the lingering heat from Ryan’s hands. Or his nearness as he hovered over her.

  She opened them again and slid the cue back and forth between her fingers, deliberating the position and pace of her shot.

  “Wait.” Ryan leaned over beside her. He slipped an arm around her waist and gripped the stick a few inches above where she clenched it. He stared straight ahead at the ball, his face inches from hers. “Loosen your grip on the cue. This is a finesse shot, so don’t try to muscle it. Just take it easy and smack the cue ball right in the center, and you’ve got this. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Tessa nodded, staring at the center of the white ball. She released a long breath, pulled back the cue and hit the cue ball dead in the center, nice and easy.

  The cue ball connected with the four ball with a smack. The purple ball rolled toward the corner pocket and slowed, teetering on the edge. But it had just enough momentum to carry it over into the pocket.

  “Yes!” Tessa squealed, smacking Ryan’s raised palm to give him a high five. “You’re amazing. You actually talked me through it.”

  “You did all the work. I was just your cheering section.” He winked in that way that made her tummy flutter.

  “Well, thank you.” She smiled. “I appreciate it.”

  “What are best friends for?” He shrugged, picking up his beer and taking a sip from the bottle.

  “Thought I was playing Tess,” Roy Jensen grumbled. “Nobody said anything about y’all tag-teaming me.”

  “Oh, quit complaining, you old coot.” Tessa stared down her opponent. “I always turn a blind eye when you ask for spelling help when we’re playing Scrabble.”

  Roy’s cheeks tinged pink, and he mumbled under his breath as Tessa moved around the table, deciding which shot to take next. She moved toward the blue two ball.

  “Hey, Ryan.” Lana, the way-too-friendly barmaid, sidled up next to him, her chest thrust forward and a smile as wide as the Rio Grande spread across her face. “Thought you might want another beer.”

  “Why thank you, kindly.” Ryan tipped an imaginary hat and returned the grin as he accepted the bottle.

  Tessa clenched her jaw, a burning sensation in her chest. She turned to her friend, whispering so neither Lana nor Ryan could hear her.

  “Why doesn’t she just take his head and smash it between the surgically enhanced boobs her ex-boyfriend gave her as a consolation prize? It’d be a lot easier for both of them.”

  “Watch it there, girl. You’re beginning to sound an awful lot like a jealous girlfriend.” Gail could barely contain her grin.

  “There’s nothing to be jealous of. Ryan and I are just friends. You know that.”

  “Best friends,” her friend pointed out, as she studied Ryan flirting with Lana. “But let’s face it. You’re two insanely attractive people. Are you really going to try and convince me that neither of you has ever considered—”

  “We haven’t.” Tessa took her shot, missing badly. It was a shot she should’ve hit, even without Ryan’s help. But she was too busy eavesdropping on his conversation with Lana.

&n
bsp; “Well, for a person who doesn’t have any romantic interest in her best friend, you seem particularly interested in whether or not he’s flirting with the big-boobed barmaid.” Gail shrugged when Tessa gave her the stink eye. “What? You know it’s true.”

  Tessa scowled at her friend’s words and the fact that Roy was taking advantage of her distraction. He easily sank one ball, then another. With no more striped balls left on the table, Roy had a clear shot at the eight ball.

  He should be able to make that shot blindfolded.

  “Well?” Gail prodded her.

  “I’m not jealous of Lana. I just think Ryan could do better. That he should do better than to fall for the calculated ploy of a woman who has dollar signs in her eyes. Probably angling for butt implants this time.”

  Gail giggled. “And why would he want a fake ass when he was mere inches from the real deal?” She nodded toward Tessa’s behind, a smirk on her face.

  Tessa was fully aware that she’d inherited her generous curves from her mother. She was just as clear about Ryan Bateman’s obliviousness to them. To him, she was simply one of the guys. But then again, the comfy jeans and plaid button-down shirts that filled her closet didn’t do much to highlight her assets.

  Hadn’t that been the reason she’d chosen such a utilitarian wardrobe in the first place?

  “Dammit!” Roy banged his pool cue on the wooden floor, drawing their attention to him. He’d scratched on the eight ball.

  Tessa grinned. “I won.”

  “Because I scratched.” Roy’s tone made it clear that he felt winning by default was nothing to be proud of.

  “A win’s a win, Jensen.” She wriggled her fingers, her palm open. “Pay up.”

  “You won? Way to go, Tess. I told you that you had this game in the bag.” Ryan, suddenly beside her, wrapped a big, muscular arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a half hug.

  “Well, at least one of us believed in me.” Tessa counted the four wrinkled five-dollar bills Roy stuffed in her palm begrudgingly.

  “Always have, always will.” He beamed at her and took another swig of his beer.