up.
Denver: I win.
Shepard: I think I’m starting to hate you, Denver.
Denver: *love
Denver: Fixed it for ya. <3
Denver: Happy Halloween, Shep.
Denver: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
Shepard: HOLY FUCK
Shepard: You are definitely one hot Bucky.
Shepard: I’m saving that photo.
Denver: Not for anything pervy, I hope.
Shepard: Of course it’s for something pervy—why else would I keep it?
Denver: Gross.
Denver: I’m headed to a party. I expect a photo of you too, Captain.
Shepard: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
Denver: OMG PUT SOME FREAKIN’ CLOTHES ON!
Shepard: What? You said you wanted a pic. I’m not dressed yet.
Denver: I meant of your costume. THE COSTUME.
Denver: No wonder you’re single.
Shepard: I have a girlfriend!
Denver: A girlfriend I’d have better chances with.
Shepard: That cut deep, Den. Super deep.
Shepard: Enjoy your party. I’ll send a real pic later.
Denver: I swear, if there is a single dick in the pic…
Shepard: Well, there could only be one. I’m not going to sprout another dick in the next hour.
Shepard: Though that could come in handy for our threesome…
Denver: BLOCKED
Denver: Brace yourself. I’m about to admit something crazy.
Shepard: I’m ready.
Denver: You are a genius.
Shepard: I know I am, but care to elaborate on why?
Denver: I got SO many compliments on my Bucky costume last night. I’m pretty sure everyone thought the gender flip was the greatest thing in the whole world.
Shepard: I kind of figured you were…popular. I saw your photos on BookFace.
Denver: You did?
Denver: I didn’t get any notifications from you.
Shepard: That’s because I didn’t like them.
Denver: Oh. Okay.
Denver: Did I do something wrong?
Shepard: Not at all, Den.
Denver: Then why do I get the sense you’re mad at me?
Shepard: I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at me.
Denver: Wanna talk about it?
Shepard: Not tonight. I’m tired. Maybe later?
Denver: Yeah. Sure. I’ll talk to you later, I guess.
Shepard: I’m glad you had fun at your party last night.
Denver: Are you though?
Denver: Shep?
Denver: Okay. Good night.
TEN
SHEPARD
DON’T KISS HER. Don’t kiss her. Do not fucking kiss her.
It’s the same thing that’s been on repeat in my mind since yesterday in the dress shop.
It’s the same thing I’m repeating now as she stands before me in a royal purple dress looking like sex wrapped in satin.
I loathe dressing up and rubbing elbows with people. It’s stuffy and all they do is gloat about how much money they have in their pockets and who they know.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a cocky bastard when it comes to being a baseball god, but the rest of that shit? The money, the fame? I don’t give two fucks.
I love baseball. I need baseball.
That’s where the line is.
But this punishment my PR team and agent are making me endure?
It’s almost worth it to see Denny in this dress.
I want to shove her back into her apartment and rip the overpriced garment from her body and make her scream my name…finally.
Instead, I hand over the bouquet of flowers I’ve brought for her.
“What’s this?” She stares down at them, surprised.
“Flowers, for you.”
“Well…well, thank you. I think.” She runs her fingertips over one of the petals. “Come on in. I’m almost ready.”
I follow her inside, closing the door behind me as she makes her way into her small kitchen.
She grabs a vase from one of the cabinets on the island and begins filling it with water. “What kind of flower is it?”
“Alstroemeria. It symbolizes friendship.”
She glances at me over her shoulder, brows lifted high. “Friendship? Is that what this is?”
“I hope it can be.”
“I-I…I don’t know, Shep.”
“We used to be really good at being friends, Den.”
Shutting off the water, she turns to me, drying her hands on the towel sitting on the countertop. She regards me with cautious eyes. “We were, but we messed that up and let feelings get involved.”
“We don’t have to let them this time.”
“Is that even possible?”
No. “Yes.”
She nods and lets out a shaky breath. “All right. Let’s do it then. Friends.” She tests the word out on her tongue like it’s a foreign language.
In many ways, it is—for us, at least.
We started out as friends, sure, but it wasn’t long before everything became…well, more.
I fell first, and hard.
But how could I not? She was smart and kind and funny. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, too, and it didn’t matter that she was over two thousand miles away.
I fell. I was ready for us, for a future.
Until I lost my nerve and wrecked us.
“We can be…friends.”
There’s a spark of hope that flares to life inside me.
“I’d like that, Den.”
“Just try not to fall in love with me this time, Cap.”
I WASN’T PREPARED for tonight at all.
Not for the media hounds peppering me with question after question and not for all the fake smiles I’d have to plaster on my face.
I most fucking definitely was not prepared for Denny.
God, the woman oozes charm and wit and pure sex. I’ve spent half the night with my cock straining against my dress slacks.
Thank god the lighting is low and everyone is too captivated by her to pay me any mind, or else they’d be getting one hell of a show.
“Clark, where did you find this girl? I think I’m in love,” says my teammate Joe, not giving a shit that his own date doesn’t care much for his admiration of mine.
My jaw ticks and I bring my champagne glass to my mouth, sipping at it so I don’t wring Joe’s neck. “Don’t you have a date for the night?”
He shrugs and leans in toward me so only I can hear. “She’s a boring lay. Been there, done that, not interested in going back. But seriously, man, if you’re not planning on keeping this broad around, I’ll gladly take her off your hands.”
“I’d step away if I were you, Joe.” Another teammate, Braxton, joins the conversation, and I appreciate the help. “Don’t you know this is the same girl who got Gerard knocked out last month?”
Braxton was there that night, the only one able to talk some sense into me before I broke shit beyond any sort of repair. He was insightful enough to know it was about the girl Gerard was talking about, but how he knows Denny is that girl is beyond me.
His voice carries enough to catch many people’s attention…including Denny’s.
Standing on the outskirts of the circle, mid-conversation with another one of the guy’s dates, she sends me a questioning look.
I avoid her stare, suddenly finding the bubbles in my glass very interesting as I take yet another sip.
I fucking hate champagne.
“Is that so?” Joe says, grinning. “You have one hell of a right hook.”
“I know,” I tell him, my voice conveying the message instead of my words. Back off, dude.
He gets it, loud and clear. Still grinning, he holds his hands up, backing away. “I’m tapping out. I saw the aftermath, and my face is way too pretty for that kind of reconstruction.”
I dare a peek over at my date.
She looks confused, and I already know I’m go
ing to be hammered with questions on the ride home.
Goddammit, Joe.
A reporter corners a handful of the guys, leaving just me and Braxton off to the side. The press knows better than to bother me too much.
“How’d you know that was her?” I say out of the corner of my mouth, not looking at him, eyes still settled on Denny.
“Because of this right here.”
I glance at him, confused. “Let’s use some real fucking sentences, shall we?”
“That right there, that small flick of a glance my way—it’s one of about five times you’ve looked away from her all night. You might have introduced her as Bucky, whatever the hell that’s about, but it’s easy to see that’s Denny.”
He didn’t go to college with me and Gerard, so he has no idea who Denny is…how important she is to me. None of the others that night knew either, not even Gerard, which is probably why they were so freaked out when I pounced on him for bragging about what an easy bang Denny was.
I don’t try to act like I’m a good guy, don’t hide the fact that I can be a huge fucking ass and have been one in the past. I’ve made massive mistakes, ones that have changed relationships with people I love. I’ve bragged about my conquests. I’ve treated women like toys. I might be a king, but I never said I wasn’t an asshole too.
That said, I am trying to change, trying to be a better man, one worthy of love.
One worthy of Denver.
I just hope she can see that too.
Like I conjured her up, she appears in front of us.
Braxton steps toward her, holding his hand out. “Hi, I’m Braxton James. I play with this douchebag over here.”
“Oh, I know exactly who you are, Mr. James. You have one hell of a batting average.”
She takes his hand, and the strength of the champagne glass I’m holding is tested when he brushes his thumb over the back of hers in a not strictly friendly way.
Fucker.
“I’m Denver, or Denny to some, Bucky to this asshole, and I’m only here with him because he’s blackmailing me.”
“Blackmailing, huh?” Braxton looks my way. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”
I flip him off and he laughs.
“I’m going to head out. Party’s winding down and I’ve done my duty.” He turns back to Denny. “If you need any rescuing, you just let me know. I’ll take care of you.” He winks at her, knowing he’s getting under my skin, then pulls me into a bro hug, clapping me on the back just a little too hard. “Don’t fuck it up, dick.”
I push him away, glaring. “Get bent, Braxton.”
He just laughs then says, “Great meeting you, Denver. Have a good night.”
He disappears into the crowd and my jaw relaxes for the first time in several minutes.
We’re left alone, and I know Denny is dying to shoot many questions at me, questions I’m not ready to answer just yet.
I’m spared when a few other players stop by to bid us good night, and then it’s finally our turn to leave.
It’s a rule with the players. We have a roster, rotating who gets to leave charity events first and last, spacing out our departures by at least fifteen minutes.
Tonight, Denny and I are second to last, and for the first time in…well, ever, I want to stick around the stuffy gala just to avoid a car ride with a beautiful woman.
“It’s our turn,” I tell her, having explained the roster on the way here. “I’ll go grab our coats.”
She says good night to a few people she’s met this evening—because of course Denny, social butterfly that she is, would make friends at the gala—and I head to the coat check.
We’re quiet the entire time, even standing there in the cool night air not saying a word as the valet pulls my truck around.
He hands over the keys and I give him a well-deserved tip for not messing my baby up.
I’m surprised when I turn around to find Denny sitting in the driver’s seat.
I wrench open the door. “Fuck no. Move it, Bucky.”
“Not happening. You drank tonight. I’m driving.”
“I had a few sips of nasty champagne.”
She holds her fingers up. “You had three. That’s enough for me to not want you to drive. Get in and shut up.”
“It’s not even real alcohol!” I argue.
“A drink is a damn drink.”
I did knock down three glasses, but I’m not drunk. If I were to drive right now, I’d be fine.
Which is probably exactly what someone who shouldn’t be driving would say.
“Fine,” I grumble, climbing inside. “But I swear, if anything happens to my truck, I’ll kiss you.”
Her lips twitch at what we both know is a non-threat.
“Just for that, I promise to drive extra careful.”
She adjusts the seat, pushes in the brake, and hits the button to start the truck.
“I’ve never driven a truck before.”
“I can tell. You look stiff.”
She darts her eyes down to my lap. “You’ve looked stiff all night.”
“I’m sorry—did you just admit to looking at my dick all night?” I smirk at her. “My, my, Denny. I didn’t expect this from you.”
“You know what, on second thought, maybe I will wreck this truck, put us both out of our misery.”
“So you want me to kiss you?” I grin, knowing I have her trapped.
She groans. “I thought I told you to shut up, Shep.”
Laughing, I unbutton my jacket and settle into the seat, shuffling around the heels she’s thrown on the floor.
“Are you driving barefoot?”
“No.”
“Then where are your shoes?”
“On my feet. Remember that bag I tucked into the back? It has normal people clothes in it for when we stop and grab burgers.”
“I’m sorry, but for when we what?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Grab burgers. What part of that is hard to understand?”
“Did you have this planned?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell?”
“What?” she says innocently. “I know you hate stuffy social gatherings, so I figured you’d be drinking. I also know they most definitely do not serve delicious foods at those things and therefore knew I’d be starving by the time it was over, and I also knew I would one hundred percent be ready to get out of this dress for the hour-long drive home.”
She glances at me when I don’t say anything.
“What? I like to be prepared.”
“You just wanted to drive my truck.”
“Yes, this was all one big elaborate scheme to drive this sexy beast.”
I rub the dashboard. “She is sexy.”
“She?”
“Yes. Shelia. Isn’t she a beauty?”
“You’re so weird, Shep.”
“You’re secretly into it, Den.”
“Gag me.”
“I thought we established that I’m not into asphyxiation.”
“I’m about to gag you,” she threatens.
“So you are into it. I’ll make a note for later. Maybe it’s something we can try together.”
I’m not surprised when she reaches over and pinches my thigh…hard.
“Brat.”
“You’re secretly into it,” she fires back.
ELEVEN
DENVER
“WOULD YOU FUCKING QUIT IT?”
“What?” I say through a mouthful of food. Real attractive, Denny.
“Moaning. It’s annoying.”
I grin. “Bullshit. Annoying is code for getting you all hot and bothered.”
He rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his burger, which tells me my assessment is spot-on.
I stopped at the first burger joint I could find and forced Shep to buy me dinner as I changed into something much more comfortable.
My legs swing back and forth as we sit on the tailgate of his truck—because he wouldn’t let us eat in the cab—as w
e finish off the last of our meals.
I stuff my face with another handful of fries.
“Hot, Den. Real hot.”
I steal one of his fries just for his remark.
“Adding thief to your resume now, huh? Here.” He hands me his milkshake. “Might as well take this too.”
“You know what, I will take this, but only because you owe me an ice cream.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You stole mine last week—or did you forget already?”
“Huh.” He looks out at the parking lot, grinning. “Must have slipped my mind.”
The lights are illuminating him in a way that makes him look like the god everyone seems to think he is.
Shep in jeans and a tee is hot enough. Shep sitting on the bed of a truck in a tux?
I might as well just throw my panties on the ground right now because holy shit.
Watching him work the room tonight was…unexpected. He was kind, polite, patient—basically the exact opposite of the cocky-in-a-not-so-sexy-way Shep I knew throughout college. Tonight, it was almost like he was the Shep I knew before.
The Shep I miss.
But the man he was tonight doesn’t align with who he was last month…which is as confusing as it is concerning.
I’ve been trying to bite my tongue, but there have been so many questions rolling around in my head since we left.
What did that guy mean when he said I’m the one who caused the fight Shep was involved in last month? How would that even be possible? I wasn’t anywhere near that area. Hell, we weren’t even on speaking terms then. I still hated him.
Well, hated him as much as I could.
“Quit staring. It’s rude.”
Caught red-handed, I avert my gaze.
Just ask him.
“You can ask, you know. I’ve been waiting for it all night.”
I sit up straighter, weirded out that he knows what I’m thinking. “Ask what?”
“Don’t play games, Bucky. It doesn’t suit you. You can ask what Braxton meant.”
“What did Braxton mean?” The words tumble from my lips even though I’m scared of the answer.
“You remember Jacob Gerard from college? Played on the team with me?”
“I can’t picture his face but the name sounds familiar.”
I watch the muscles in Shep’s jaw jump. “He remembers you, Den—quite well, actually.”
“Okay,” I say, stretching the word out, confused. “What about him?”
Text Me Baby One More Time Page 7