She realized Gabe had let go of her hand and was still standing at the door.
“You can come in.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” she said, taking his hand and bringing him in next to Dad’s bedside where he sat on the edge, looking lost. “Mr. Reynolds?” she said. “I’d like for you to meet my friend, Gabe Murphy. He’s a big fan of yours.”
Gabe stepped forward and slipped his hand into her father’s. “Sir, I just want to thank you. For all the passes you threw, for all the games you won and didn’t win, too. You’ve been a hero to me my whole life, sir. Not just as a quarterback, but as a family man.” He looked at Zoe. “And for raising a wonderful daughter, thank you.”
Dad looked at Gabe with narrowed eyes. Any moment now, he would proclaim he wasn’t a quarterback, didn’t have a daughter, and was a war hero during the Civil War, not the NFL. “Her,” he said, pointing to Zoe. “That’s my daughter there.”
Gabe’s widened eyes reflected the same surprise coursing through Zoe. “I know, sir. I know. That’s the woman I love. So thank you.”
Zoe couldn’t speak. She could only choke on her tears as two of the three men she loved most in the word stood frozen in a handshake. Pulling out her phone, she held it up, barely able to see the image on her screen through her tears. “Look here, you two. Say cheese.”
Epilogue
Gabe Murphy had one job to do—take the Bootleggers to victory. On about his fifth visit to see Kip Reynolds, the other man had a thirty-minute bout of lucidity in which he recalled some highlights from his career, and when Gabe had told him he also played football, Kip had said, “Promise me you’ll win the Super Bowl in my name.” When Gabe had said he’d do his best, Kip had smiled, looked at Zoe who was standing close by, and then leaned closer to Gabe. “More importantly, promise me you won’t put football, you won’t put anything, before the people you love.” Gabe had looked at Zoe in that moment, too, so he saw her tear up. Without looking away, he’d said, “I promise.”
He’d kept that promise all through his first season with the Bootleggers. He loved playing football, and he still strove to be the best, but he’d meant what he’d said to her—he’d quit the game in a heartbeat for Zoe.
Now it was the last two minutes of the 4th Quarter of the Super Bowl, the Bootleggers and Washington Orcas were neck and neck at 17-17, and this was the Bootleggers’ best chance to score a touchdown from the 24 yard line, or else try for the field goal. There was forty seconds on the clock.
The center snapped the ball, everybody scattered into position, and Gabe ran past linebackers and cornerbacks for a post route jump ball. As he ran to catch the ball, he could see the Orcas safety charging in at him from the right hand side. Gabe tried to outrun him but when he saw he wouldn’t be able to, he stopped suddenly to let the safety slide past him, and the player caught Gabe by his bad shoulder. Hooking around, he tried to bring Gabe down, but Gabe ran another yard to catch the ball with his fingertips.
Half the battle. Now he needed to win—for the Bootleggers, for Kip Reynolds, for Pop and Mimi watching in the stands, for Murph, for the Noise who taught him how to win and was a valuable part of his past, but mostly for himself and Zoe, the woman who’d made him whole again. With what seemed like the world’s population chasing after him, now he needed to plow toward the end zone. As the stadium roared and the cheerleaders jumped up and down on the sidelines, Gabe outran the defense in the corner of the end zone.
The whistle blew and volumes of people descended on him, patting him, hugging, taking off his helmet and kissing his cheek. Though the clock hadn’t run out yet, they lifted him into the air. There was no chance for the Orcas to score. Maybe a field goal, but that would only give them three points under Gabe’s six. On the field, the Bootleggers’ kicker got the extra point, and the game was over.
Gabe Murphy had scored the winning touchdown for the Bootleggers, and they were now the reigning Super Bowl champions. On the sidelines, Zoe bulleted up to him, pushed her way past the players, and jumped on him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, covering him in kisses.
“You did it!” she cried. “You really did it!”
Gabe would remember this moment for the rest of his life. His eyes scanned for his sister. Knowing what he was looking for, she stepped up with the biggest smile he’d seen her with in a while, and handed him a small package. Right there, as cameras surrounded him, and his image was splayed all over the JumboTron, he set Zoe down gently then kneeled in front of her.
The crowd cheered all over again, but Murph quieted those around him, asking for space. The players backed up, forming a close circle around them. Zoe, realizing what was happening, covered her mouth with her hand.
“Zoe Reynolds, only one thing could make this night any happier than it already is,” Gabe said, out of breath, all sweaty. He opened the ring box he’d intended to give her many months earlier.
“A shower!” smartass Dawson shouted, tossing him a towel, as the crowd laughed.
“Thanks, bud.” He wiped his brow. Above him, Zoe giggled. Speaking just loud enough that only Zoe could hear him, he said, “I asked your father’s permission to marry you a while ago, Zoe, and he gave it to me. Now, peach, will you give me the immense honor of being my wife?”
“Oh, my God, you’re so crazy. Yes!” Her dimples were in full form tonight.
Gabe plucked out the ring and slid it over her finger. It was a perfect fit. He stood, and reeled her in close, not letting go even when the Super Bowl trophy was passed from player to player, past Gabe’s hands, over to Kyle Young’s, then Heath’s then Alec’s then several other players before it found itself in the hands of their fearless coach and leader. While the team celebrated their victorious win, Gabe kissed his fiancée.
Last summer he never would’ve known the season would end this way. When he was injured and let go by the Noise, he thought he’d lost it all. But sometimes, when you give life a good fight, you can win back the things you thought you lost.
What he never expected, however, was just how high he’d go. Between winning the Super Bowl and winning the love of this extraordinary woman, Gabe just didn’t know how much better life could get.
Having little ones one day, he supposed. A family of his own.
At home that evening, there was much celebrating to do. Yes, they attended all the requisite after-game parties where, once again, all eyes were on his beautiful bride-to-be. Seemed to Gabe that Zoe only got hotter and more enticing every time he saw her, but he knew that was only his love for her growing deeper. Still, it only made him want to leave the parties early and bring her home, which he did, promising to join the team BBQ tomorrow.
After a good, solid pounding in the bedroom, one that left Zoe screaming and mewling and coming like a freight train against their headboard, Gabe shot hard into his fiancée, knowing that with each passing day, she was becoming more and more his. Their sweaty bodies fell onto the bed, as Gabe gasped and looked up at the ceiling to catch his breath. He’d never known life could be this way, this good, and he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this gorgeous angel by his side, but he’d never, never refuse her the benefit of the doubt ever again.
“I have something else for you,” he said, reaching for his nightstand’s drawer.
“I don’t think I can take anything else. Good Lord, I’m going to need stitches after that one.” She laughed, reaching for the fan’s remote to turn it up higher.
He pulled out an envelope full of paperwork and handed it to her. “Here.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
She took the envelope and slid out its contents. Her bright green eyes scanned back and forth, skimming and reading parts aloud. Suddenly, it dawned on her what it was. “You didn’t…”
“Yes, peach. I don’t care that your rent was current, I didn’t want you having to deal with that asshole Tony for anything. Iron Maiden is your legacy, one your father left you.
I bought the building. We’re gonna fix it up, restore it, modernize it, do a bunch of stuff to it… It’s yours, free and clear.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it. We’re going to do great things together, peach. I promised your father we would.”
“Did you really get his blessing? When did you manage that?” she asked.
“I did. I’ve been going to see him on the other days you don’t—with your brother. Get some good ol’ bonding time in there. I think your brother’s almost ready to forgive me for being an asshole all those months ago.”
“He forgave you the moment he saw how happy you made me again,” she said, but she was reaching over to her nightstand as well, pulling something out and holding it behind her back.
He pulled her into his arms, trying to get whatever was behind her back, but… “Damn it, woman. What do you have there?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Ah, something they entrusted me with tonight to give you.” She stuck out her tongue, and he nipped at it.
“Show me.” He watched as she opened a jewelry box, pulled out a large, golden band with the Bootleggers pirate and sword logo on it, and slipped it onto his finger.
“Congratulations on your first Super Bowl ring, baby,” she said, flashing him her dimples.
“Our Super Bowl ring. And I’ll cherish it, peach. But never more than you. You’re my whole world. My reason for living. For breathing.”
“And fucking?” she teased.
“That, too, baby. Always.”
“Well you’re my reason for living and breathing and fucking, too, Gabe Murphy. Now how about dropping and giving me a hundred?”
He laughed. “Now? You want me to drop and give you a hundred push ups?”
She shook her head. “A hundred years,” she whispered. “Of happiness just like we’re experiencing now.”
“I’ll do better than that, peach. I’ll give you forever. Till death do us part. And even then I’ll find my way back to you.”
She sighed with happiness and pulled him close for a long deep kiss. When she pulled back, she cupped his face, stared into his gorgeous blue eyes, and said. “You’ll do, Gabe Murphy. You’ll do.”
***
Thank you for reading the Going Deep Boxed Set! If you enjoyed this book, check out my other boxed sets, including my sexy romantic comedy Kiss Talent Agency Boxed Set (Books 1-6). Keep reading for a sneak peek of Book 1, Lip Service.
Also, check out my fan-favorite, USA Today bestselling Bedding the Bachelors series, starting with Bedding the Wrong Brother.
Lip Service (Kiss Talent Agency Book 1)
Dani
I just wanted to tell Hunter Kiss where he could shove the fancy phone he gave my little brother as an obvious bribe. I’m sorry/not sorry I hit him in the nose with it, but sports agents who come sniffing around with dollar signs in their eyes have to get through me.
But now I’m pinned between the wall and Hunter’s naked body, and I’m the one sniffing his unbelievably hot, freshly showered skin…and trying to remember I’m a strong woman who stands on her own two feet, not one of his peanut-butter-legged conquests.
Hunter
I make college football players into stars without having to bribe them, and I’m pissed Dani Cross thinks otherwise. But anger isn’t all she makes me feel. The pink-haired, pierced tattoo artist is so hot she makes me want to forget my own rule: one night per woman, no exceptions.
Only she doesn’t trust me as far as she can throw me. (And trust me, that woman has an arm.) She’s been hurt, and it’ll take more than smooth talking to make her forget the pain. But for the first time in my life, I’m ready to lay it all on the table—even if closing the deal means offering my heart.
Chapter 1
Hunter
“Hunter, baby, you up? Breakfast is almost ready.”
Shit, I think as my eyes flash open.
I stare up at the ceiling and listen to the sounds coming from my kitchen. Female humming. Cabinets opening and closing. Dishes rattling. To my left, sunlight peeks through the shades. I fumble for my phone, check the time, then mentally curse again. Viciously. Not only because I overslept, but because I’m pissed as hell at myself.
“Hunter?”
“Yeah,” I finally call out. “Coming.”
I throw back the covers, get out of bed, pull on a pair of sweats, then splash cold water on my face. Arms braced on the counter, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and curl my lip in disgust.
“You stupid bastard,” I mutter.
Exhausted from a string of eighty-hour work weeks and too much to drink, I’d apparently done something I haven’t done in ten years—fallen asleep immediately after having sex with a woman.
The same woman who was now frying bacon by the smell of things.
The same woman whose name I can’t seem to remember.
I’d met her at Gatsby’s last night and taken her home with me, another rarity. Usually I prefer going to a woman’s place so I can make an easy escape, but she’d been visiting from out of town and had been curious about where I lived. Getting a hotel room had seemed like too much trouble and before I knew it, here we were. She’d been good with her hands at the club, even better in bed. Wild and crazy in the sheets.
But I still can’t remember her name.
When I walk into the kitchen, the pretty blonde looks up and offers me a warm, beautiful smile. If I was anyone else, if I wasn’t Hunter fucking Kiss, the smile would probably melt my heart.
But I am Hunter Kiss and I don’t have time for this shit.
I notice she’s wearing my grey cashmere robe, the one that normally hangs on the back of my bathroom door. That annoys me. When I see my laptop where I left it on the kitchen counter, however—with the screensaver activated, telling me she’d tried to access my files—any notion I had of politely eating breakfast with her before nudging her out the door vanishes.
“Good morning,” she purrs. “You hungry? I thought we could eat and then spend the day together.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
She frowns. “Sorry?”
“My screensaver is still on.” I raise my brows, but I don’t lay into her as much as I should. Yeah, she was nosey, but it wasn’t her fault I’d fallen asleep even after I’d made it clear last night I wasn’t looking for anything more than mutual gratification. Talk about giving a lady mixed signals. Still, I want her gone. “Listen, last night was great, but I’ve got to get to work. The café next door has amazing pancakes.”
Her mouth open and closes. Her face turns red. Finally, her eyes narrow. “You’re a dick.”
I contemplate her words and shrug. I’m not trying to be even more of an ass; she just happens to be right. “Which is why you really wouldn’t want to spend more time with me than you have to,” I say softly.
“Fuck you,” she scoffs as she rounds the counter and passes by me to stalk into the bedroom.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I force myself to remain silent. Ten minutes later, she blows out of my apartment. For a few seconds, I feel guilty. She was a nice woman, for the most part, and great at giving head. But mostly I feel relief. And determined not to make the mistake of actually falling asleep with another woman again.
I make coffee and pick up my phone to call Trisha, my personal assistant. She informs me she already rescheduled my morning meetings.
“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”
“Yes, you’ve told me a million times, Hunter. I love you too, and before the sound of those words makes you shriek in horror and run away, you know I mean that in a brotherly way.”
“Right,” I chuckle. “How’s Gwendolyn?”
“Let’s say it’s complicated and leave it at that.”
“Women are so damn difficult.” I take a sip of coffee, immediately regretting the decision as it’s still too hot to drink and singes my lips. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just switch teams. I h
appen to know a handsome guy who would be just your type.”
“Is he a little over six feet tall with an athletic build? Brown hair and hazel eyes?”
“Yeah, I think we’re talking about the same guy.”
“Yeah, I know that guy, and he’s only my type because he’s even more afraid of commitment than I am. Plus, he’s like my brother, too, and assuming I was ever strictly dickly, I’m not into anything taboo.”
“Everyone’s into something crazy behind closed doors.” I grin widely then ask, “Have you confirmed tomorrow’s meeting with Cross?”
“Actually no. When I called him, he hemmed and hawed a bit. Literally.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a good old Southern boy. But he’s also the best upcoming quarterback in the country, and what do you mean he hemmed and hawed? He was damn excited about the prospect of signing with me and going pro last we talked.”
“Apparently that was before his sister got to him. He let slip she has concerns.”
“Is this the same sister who left twenty-five messages the past week?”
“That’s the one. She’s not your biggest fan.”
I snort. “I’m not afraid of his sister.”
“Seeing as I’m the only one who’s actually spoken to her, I can say in all seriousness: You should be.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Signing Cross is basically a done deal.”
“Yeah, well done deal or not, he mentioned he might want to include the sister in the meeting.”
I blow out a breath. “Fuck. But fine. By the time I’m done with him and his sister, they’re going to be drooling with dollar signs in their eyes.”
“I hope you’re right. Anyway, will you be gracing us with your presence soon?”
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
I end the call then jump in the shower. When I’m done, I hear someone pounding on my door. Is it the blonde? If she “forgot” something, better to give it to her now rather than risk her coming back. She knocks again, this time more aggressively. My robe is on the floor where she left it and I figure, what the hell, she’s already seen all there is to see of me. So I grab a towel, sling it loosely around my hips, and throw open the door.
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