Shepard: You could never hate me.
Shepard: So what are we going to do about this mutual attraction?
Denver: What can we do? We live over two thousand miles apart.
Shepard: There’s always college…
Denver: There’s always college.
Shepard: Is that, like, a deal?
Denver: Okay, I have another confession to make.
Shepard: What do I look like, the Pope?
Denver: No. He’s way cuter than you.
Shepard: There are a lot of things about you that are suddenly starting to make sense.
Denver: QUIET!
Denver: See, I’ve always had this…plan: go off to college, fall madly in love with my soul mate, and get married when we graduate. I know you don’t believe in forevers or soul mates or any of that, so it’s really hard for me to say that’s a deal…especially when it comes to you.
Denver: Is that going to be a problem for us?
Shepard: No.
Denver: You sure?
Shepard: I’m sure.
Denver: This scares me.
Shepard: Me too, but, Bucky?
Denver: Yes, Cap?
Shepard: I’d give forever a shot with you.
SIXTEEN
SHEPARD
“WHERE ARE you in the lineup tonight?”
“Second.”
“Really? You mean I don’t have to spend my entire Saturday night with you?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She runs her eyes over my attire. “I mean, you do look pretty snazzy in that suit.”
“Snazzy, huh? Not hot? Sexy? Fuckable?”
Red fills her cheeks, and it’s one of the few times I’ve actually seen Denver blush.
I lean over, my shoulder brushing against her, my lips running along the shell of her ear. “Say I’m fuckable, Denver.”
She sucks in a deep breath, holding it for far too long before finally letting it out and raising her chin up high.
She turns to me, meeting me head-on.
“You’re fuckable, all right, but you’re not getting any tonight.”
My champagne glass disappears from my hand, she guzzles the contents down, and then she brushes past me with a triumphant glint in her eyes.
I shake my head, smiling, watching her immerse herself in a group of players like that’s exactly where she belongs. As a journalist, it probably is.
I wonder how her article is coming along, what exactly it is she’s writing about. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to ask her, but I can’t say I care enough to actually do so.
I’m only letting her write it so I can spend time with her. She can write anything she wants. Tell people I wet the fucking bed for all I care—as long as by the end of this whole exchange of services, she’s mine.
“I see you brought her back. A first for you, man.”
Braxton appears beside me, holding out a new glass of champagne. I take it with no intention of drinking it. Like hell I’m letting Denver drive my truck again.
“Yep,” I reply.
“Guess you haven’t fucked it up.”
“Not yet.”
“You will.”
I glare at him. “Thanks, dick.”
He lifts a shoulder. “What? She’s too good to be true, and too good for you.”
“You say the sweetest things, Brax.”
“Does she know what happened with your brother? That little hissy fit you threw?”
I tense at the mention of Zach and Delia and the second biggest mistake of my life.
“She doesn’t,” I say through clenched teeth. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”
“You should tell her, let her decide if you’re redeemable.”
“I will…eventually.”
Braxton grunts like he doesn’t believe me.
Fucker.
I do plan to tell her, just not yet, not when things are going as well as they are. I’ll do it before the wedding.
I hope.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, switching off the alarm.
“That’s my cue. We’re second tonight.”
“Second? Lucky little shit.” His heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “See ya next week.”
I groan, mentally ticking off another event in my head.
Two down, just three more to go.
Since Gerard didn’t press charges and because my coach finds me “valuable”—his words, not mine—I got out of the whole mess pretty clean, all things considered. I’m suspended for the remainder of the season, not allowed to participate in team activities, and must pay a nominal fine for making the team look like shit.
The club made me pay damages. I mean, seriously?
Whatever, it’s understandable, but for my agent and PR team to force me to attend these charity events instead of just donating like I always do? Fucking deplorable.
The only good to come of it is the excuse to spend time with Denny.
I push through the crowd to find her, and my ears perk up when I hear my name.
“Are you dating Shepard Clark?” asks a redhead with perky tits.
“Dating?” Denny wrinkles her nose. “No.”
“If you’re not dating him then you must be related,” another girl says. “Shep has never brought the same girl to more than one event.”
If Denny is surprised by this, she doesn’t show it.
She waves a hand, laughing. “We’re most definitely not related either.”
“Then what are you?”
“Well, to tell you the truth,” she starts, leaning in closer to the girls. They all follow her lead, bending their heads together. “I’m only here because I feel sorry for him.”
Oh, I cannot wait to see where this goes.
One girl grabs her chest, mouth dropping open. “Is he dying?”
“Is he off the team?”
“You’re pity dating him?”
She nods, frowning. “I am. The reason you don’t see him with the same date twice is because once girls find out about it, they don’t stick around—no matter how big his wallet is.”
“Is he scarred?”
“A weird birthmark?”
“Two left feet?”
They pepper her with questions and she continues frowning, shaking her head solemnly.
“Worse.” She leans in closer. “He has a micro-penis.”
“No!” one of the girls gasps.
Denny nods and holds her hand up, pinching her fingers together, telling everyone I have a three-inch dick.
“It’s true.” She shrugs. “It’s a good thing he knows how to use his mouth or else I’d have been out of there so fast.”
The girls clamor, all exchanging shocked comments, some going as far as saying they always suspected.
She takes a sip of her champagne, surveying the room, looking smug.
Until our eyes lock.
Until she sees the promise of revenge.
Her hands begin to shake. Her cheeks flush, lips part.
Just wait until you see what I can do with my tongue, Bucky.
“WHERE ARE WE GOING? You just passed the burger joint.”
“We had burgers last week. I’m craving p…”
In my peripheral, I watch as she clenches her thighs together, anticipating the word leaving my mouth.
“Pizza.”
She releases a frustrated sigh. “God, it’s hot in here,” she says, playing like she wasn’t waiting for me to say pussy.
Don’t worry, Denny, pussy is definitely still on the menu for tonight.
“Does this mean we’ll be eating back at your place?”
“Yep.”
“Do you mind if we stop at Smart Shoppe first? I want to grab a few things.”
“I already bought your coffee creamer,” I tell her.
Her mouth drops open but she quickly snaps it closed.
“Well, I need other things. Besides, it’s rather presumptuous of you to assume I’d
be staying the night again.”
“You are. We both know you are.” I glance over at her. “Like you’ll give up a night of snuggling Steve.”
“Excellent point.” She flips on the A/C, and I know it’s because she’s wound tight about our plans for dinner—well, my plans for dinner. “I’m still mad you wouldn’t let me bring him.”
“You’re lucky I’m letting you anywhere near him after you tried to steal him twice last week.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, putting her breasts on display.
“I would have gotten away with it the second time if he hadn’t peed in my duffle bag.”
“He peed because he was getting kidnapped and was terrified.”
“He gets his dramatics from you. You owe me a new bag, too.”
I laugh. “You tried to steal my dog and I owe you a new bag? Keep dreaming.”
We pull into Smart Shoppe. The event tonight was local, so the drive isn’t much compared to last week…or next, which she has no idea is three hours away. We’re also slotted to leave last.
She’s going to love that one. I’ll tell her later.
“Ugh, I should have changed before we left. I look ridiculous,” she grumbles as we walk through the parking lot. “Oh god!”
She steps in a puddle then almost drops back into another one.
I grab her hand, stopping her before she can get her other shoe wet.
“What?” She peers down at our joined hands then back up at me. “Are you trying to hold my hand?”
“Don’t be gross, Den. No. I’m trying to save you from stepping in yet another puddle.” I tug her closer to me. “Come here.”
I face away from her and bend my knees.
She just stands there.
Glancing over my shoulder, I roll my eyes. “Well, hop the fuck up.”
“What? I am not riding you into the store.”
I stand to my full height, turning toward her. “You might not ride me right now, Denny, but you will be riding me later.”
She lifts her hand to smack at me and I grab it in midair, using the opportunity to drag her toward me and toss her over my shoulder fireman style.
“Dammit, Shep! Put me down!”
I bite her ass cheek. “Shush it.”
“Oh my god—did you just bite my ass?” She hits me.
“Are you punching my butt right now?
“Yes!” She hits my cheek again. “How is it so hard?”
“Squats, baby. Lots of fucking squats.” I do one right then, holding her like she weighs nothing—because she doesn’t.
The biggest thing on Denny is her mouth.
“Oh, wow. I’m so turned on right now,” she says sarcastically. “What is wrong with you? Put me down!”
I don’t.
I carry her through the parking lot, smiling at the few strangers giving us weird looks, and I don’t let her down until we reach the sidewalk.
She slides down my body, winded from yelling and beating me.
“I hate you.”
I lean down, tilting my head like I’m about to go in for a kiss, and watch as her breaths quicken.
She wants the kiss.
I do too.
Problem is, if I start kissing her now, I won’t be able to stop.
“Two things. One, you don’t look ridiculous. You look fucking stunning.”
Her pupils expand, and she darts her tongue out to lick at her lips.
“Two, what have I told you about lying, Den?” Forcing myself to back away before I fuse my mouth with hers, I step through the automatic doors and call over my shoulder, “You coming?”
She mutters something I swear sounds like, “I wish,” and follows me into the store.
We look like goons, walking around the grocery store in fancy clothes. It’s early enough for there to still be plenty of shoppers, and we’re garnering an abundance of stares.
I let her wander around, loading her arms with random snacks and, of course, plenty of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
When she finally announces she’s done, I pay for her haul and load the truck up.
We agree on a pizza—extra green olives for her—and head back to my place.
“Good evening, sir! Hello again, Miss Andrews.”
Denny waves to the old man then looks at me, surprised Jim knows her name.
“I told him you’d probably be here with me a lot.” I shrug. “Hey, Jim. How are the parents doing?”
“Fantastic, sir. Tiptop shape.”
“That’s good to hear. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”
Jim bids us good night as the elevator doors close.
“His parents are still alive? He’s so old,” Denny remarks once we’re alone.
“Not his parents, Steve’s. He’s who I bought Steve from.”
“No way!”
“Yep.” I press the button for my floor. “He gave me an amazing deal on him too. Turns out pugs are expensive as shit.”
“I know. Why do you think I tried to get you to buy me one?” She winks as the elevator comes to a stop
We exit, and I lead her down the hall.
“Steve!”
Denny drops to her knees the moment I open the door, spreading her arms wide like she’s waiting for my pug to come skidding around the corner at any moment.
He won’t. I’ve crated him this time, since I discovered he peed in my shoes last time.
I stare down at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind.
“You do realize he’s in his crate, right? And that you’re kneeling down on my floor in a thousand-dollar dress?”
She juts her bottom lip out, and I’ll be damned if her plump mouth doesn’t make my cock jump.
I want to see it wrapped around me. Bad.
Firmly, I grab her chin, tilting her face up to me.
Her breathing kicks into overdrive, her chest rising and falling with eagerness.
“The only time you should be on your knees in one of these dresses is for me, Denver.”
I leave her sitting there, jaw slack and wanting more.
Soon, Denny. Soon.
SEVENTEEN
DENVER
“OH GOD,” I moan loudly. “I don’t think I ever want to stop.” Another moan. “This is the best I’ve ever had.”
Shep’s head snaps my way. “Are you finished?”
“Almost.”
I wink and take the last bite of my pizza, chew, and then swallow. Dusting my hands off, I throw myself back on his lush dark gray couch, satisfied.
“God.” I pat my full stomach. “That was better than sex.”
“I don’t think you’re having the right kind of sex.”
“I don’t think you’re giving this pizza enough credit.”
He shakes his head, grabs another slice, and dips it into the cup of barbeque sauce he’s holding.
I curl my lip at the action. “I can’t believe you’re eating that. It’s disgusting.”
“Have you ever tried it before?”
“No, but it sounds disgusting.”
He shoves a slice in my face. “Try it.”
“If I try it and hate it, you owe me ten dollars.”
“And if you try it and love it, I owe you an orgasm.”
I sit forward, holding a hand up. “Wait—you’re telling me no matter what, I win?” I snatch the slice of pizza from his hand. “Give me that.”
I take a small bite, then another. Before I know it, I’ve annihilated yet another piece of pizza and eaten half his sauce.
Oops?
He sits, smug grin lining his stupid plump lips. “Told ya.”
I roll my eyes and push myself off the couch. “Whatever. I’m going to change into jammies.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t do that as soon as you walked in the door.”
“And eat cold pizza? No thanks.”
I brush past him and snatch my overstuffed tote bag off the floor then head back to his bedroom.
Staying the night
at Shep’s is growing on me…and not just because of his ultra-comfy bed.
I like it here. It’s quiet—way quieter than my apartment building—and cozy. Though the apartment is mostly made up of shades of gray, it’s still inviting, pleasantly simple and modern.
Plus, there’s Steve, who I might be growing a little too attached to.
I push open the bedroom door and stop dead in my tracks.
“Shep!”
“What!” he hollers back.
“Get your ass in here.”
“Nah. I’m comfy.”
“Cap! Move that ass!”
I hear him sigh loudly, muttering as he shuffles down the hall.
“What?” he says when he’s standing next to me.
I point to the bed. “What the shit is this?”
Laughing, he says, “That, Denny, is a dog in a suitcase.”
“Whose suitcase is that? Yours?”
“No. That would be yours.” He walks farther into the room, scooping Steve from the open rectangle and depositing him on the floor. The pup does not look too happy about being moved from his spot. “He was sleeping on your flowers.”
“You got me flowers again?”
“I did.”
I approach the bed, bringing the crushed bouquet up to my nose and smelling it. I don’t recognize the blooms, or their scent. “What are they?”
“Amaryllis.”
Remembering that last week the flowers he got for me had a meaning, I ask, “And they mean?”
“Beauty.”
The single word lingers in the air, and a warmth trickles into my heart. It’s that same warmth that’s been working its way inside since Shep came back into my life. Slowly, every day we spend together, it’s spreading.
Oddly, I’m finding that I like it.
I drag my fingertips over the suitcase. “You got me this?”
“I mean, my dog did pee in your other one.”
“But I thought it was deserved because I was trying to kidnap him?”
“It was, but I still felt guilty. Besides, that other one was tragic looking. I couldn’t let you stuff another one of those expensive dresses into it. It was painful to watch.”
“They did barely fit…” I murmur, dragging the luggage closer. “Shep, this is really nice.”
“It’s a hard case with those idiot-proof wheels.”
“I did always want one of those.”
“Yeah? Good. You’re going to need it next weekend anyway.”
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