Illegal Motion: Boys of Fall

by Erin Nicholas

  ILLEGAL MOTION

  Boys of Fall

  Erin Nicholas

  Dedication

  To the original Erin Nicholas street team—the Special Ops girls.

  You’ve been there—not behind me, but beside me from the very beginning.

  I’ll never forget that. Love you all.

  The Boys of Fall

  In Texas, the temperature isn’t all that’s heating up…coming home has never been so hot!

  Coach Nicholas Carr was the greatest high school football coach the sleepy little town of Quinn, Texas had ever seen. He led his boys to the state championships year after year. However, only once did the Quinn Titans ever bring home the state title. Quinn locals still insist that high school team was the greatest Texas ever had or ever would see. The exceptional group of athletes went on to do incredible things, bolstered by the qualities their cherished coach had instilled in them.

  But when a retired Coach Carr suffers a heart attack and risks losing his beloved family ranch, his boys return home, anxious to give back to the man who’d been like a father to all of them.

  Little did they know that returning to Quinn meant they’d fall in love—and into bed with strong, sexy women that are their match in every way. Home is definitely where the heart is, and so is the shower, and the wall, and the kitchen table…

  Warning: Keep a glass of cold ice water handy to avoid sudden heatstroke—and a change of panties never hurts either.

  Illegal Motion

  Carter Shaw isn’t a man anyone would mistake for a good guy. He’s has always been intense, fearless and up for anything—on the football field, when wearing his badge, and in the bedroom.

  But pleasure is never mixed up with love. His unstable upbringing was enough to scare him off commitments.

  Until he meets Lacey Andrews.

  A true do-gooder, heart and soul, Lacey is the only woman to ever make Carter wish he was a better man.

  It’s probably a good thing his best friend fell in love with her first.

  Even when Garrett is shot and dies in the line of duty, Carter knows he can’t give her everything she wants and needs. Until she shows up on his doorstep in nothing but a trench coat and pink lingerie. Now there may be a few things he can offer…

  Losing her fiancé has only proven how short life is and Lacey doesn’t want to miss another moment of happiness. Carter might have turned down the chance at the long-term threesome she and Garrett wanted, but she knows he hasn’t forgotten the deep friendship or the one hot night the three of them shared. Carter is the only one who can make her feel alive again. And while her heart will always hold Garrett’s memory, Lacey is ready to prove Carter will never have to share her…even with the ghost of another.

  Illegal Motion

  Copyright © 2015 by Erin Nicholas

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Digital Edition

  ISBN: 978-0-9965902-1-1

  Editor: Kelli Collins

  Cover artist: Valerie Tibbs

  Digital formatting: Author E.M.S.

  Chapter One

  He would really prefer to be stabbed.

  Not fatally, of course, but a big ol’ knife in the thigh would be preferable to this.

  Carter Shaw tipped back his soda, wished for something much stronger, and watched the couples dancing to the new sappy Hunter Hayes love song. Though really, once someone said “Hunter Hayes”, the sappy love song part was implied, wasn’t it?

  Lisa, his most recent Saturday night diversion, caught his eye and gave him a huge smile.

  Christ, she wasn’t even here with him. That Saturday night had been four weeks ago and when she’d asked him to be her plus-one tonight, he’d told her he couldn’t because he was on call. Which was true. He had agreed to be on call tonight for anything that came up for the police department—so that he had an excuse to not be anyone’s plus-one for the wedding.

  She was dancing with another man, but still making eyes at Carter.

  Which confirmed that a root canal, too, would be preferable to attending a wedding reception.

  It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for Wade and Charlene. He absolutely was. But weddings made him itchy and wedding dances were hell.

  Everyone had love on the brain, especially the single women. Everything from the pretty dresses, to the flowers, to the cake made them yearn. And made them look at the single men in the room as potential soul mates.

  Put a girl in a dress, even with cake nearby, in the local bar, and she just wanted to dance and make out.

  Put her in a reception hall with candles and white tablecloths and a friend in a white frilly dress, and she started wanting him home for dinner every night and sleeping with her even when she wasn’t putting out.

  He blamed the vows.

  The lovey-dovey words about forever and forsaking others and being there through it all that made women a little nuts.

  The champagne didn’t help.

  Deep down, the women knew that was asking a lot. They had to know that. But they all dreamed of the day when a guy would stand up in front of everyone they knew and make that promise.

  Even if it was utter bullshit.

  These women all knew that getting married didn’t guarantee anything. They all knew at least three couples who had promised those same things and had been divorced and hating each other a few years later.

  So what the hell happened when a woman watched a friend put on a white dress and veil? Their common sense just vanished?

  Committing to one person forever made no sense to Carter. Hell, he’d changed his favorite brand of beer six times since he’d been old enough to drink and even the idea of eating the same sandwich every day for the rest of his life gave him a stomach ache.

  The whole thing had made no sense to Carter’s dad either. After four wives and countless girlfriends, Matthew Shaw was now happily fucking women twenty years his junior and making the same old bullshit promises.

  And the women kept coming anyway.

  If there wasn’t a lesson in that, Carter didn’t know anything.

  He finished his Coke and straightened away from the bar he’d been leaning on.

  “You’re not leaving yet.”

  Dammit. Carter sighed and turned to see his buddy Jackson Brady grinning at him.

  “Told you before, you’re not my type. Where’s your girlfriend?” Carter asked.

  Even Jackson, one of the biggest players Carter had ever met, was whipped. Carter was one of the few holdouts from their group. Wade was dancing with his bride, Tucker was holding his girl, Lela, tight, and last he’d seen Jackson, he and Annabelle were on their way to a citation for public indecency.

  “She’s in the bathroom.” Jackson signaled the bartender for a beer. “So seriously not even dancing huh?” Jackson asked after he’d taken a swig.

  “Women at weddings have unrealistic expectations,” Carter told him.

  “Don’t most guys look at women at weddings as easy marks?” Jackson leaned an elbow on the bar.

  “Yep,” Carter agreed.

  “But you don’t want to get laid tonight?”

  “Not worth it.” Cart
er contemplated getting another drink. If Jackson was going to be chatty, he might need something more. Then again, he couldn’t spike it with anything, so what was the point? Whiskey was the only way his buddy’s newfound wisdom and happiness about being in a committed relationship was going to be palatable.

  “Jesus, Carter,” Jackson said with a chuckle. “Most of the women here know you. None of them expect a ring. Just don’t go for any new girls.”

  It still wasn’t worth it. Most of the women here did know him, and had all of his life. Growing up in a small town had its advantages. And its disadvantages. One of those being that by the time a guy got to thirty years old, he’d dated and dumped most of the women.

  It wasn’t like he was notching his bedpost. It was just how it was. Carter didn’t do longterm. But he really liked women. What came with that naturally was a lot of exes.

  “Repeats are bad news at weddings,” he told Jackson. “If you date a girl and break up with her and then hit on her at a wedding, she’s going to think you want to start things up again.”

  “You’ve repeated with more than one woman in this room.”

  Carter nodded. “But I’ve never flirted with them at a wedding.”

  “That makes a difference?” Jackson was clearly enjoying this. He was grinning and drinking as if he knew that Carter couldn’t drink and really wanted to.

  “Of course it does. They’ve just watched some guy agree to love, honor and cherish one of their friends forever. They’re all worked up in a romantic lather.” Carter sighed. “And the fact that it’s Wade makes this wedding even worse.”

  Jackson laughed at that. “Because?”

  “Because he was one of the players. Those of us who love women—lots of women—and had no intention of settling down.”

  “So the women all think anything is possible,” Jackson filled in.

  “Exactly.”

  Jackson tipped his bottle back again. “Well, buddy, I can tell you from personal experience that when you find that one woman—”

  “Spare me,” Carter broke in. Worse than watching his friends be all romantic and sweet was listening to them talk about it. Jackson was the worst. He was so in love with Annabelle that Carter had needed to tell him to shut the fuck up about it. More than once. And Carter even really liked Annabelle and was happy for them. It was still annoying as hell.

  He’d listened to and watched his father fall madly in love too.

  A dozen times or more.

  Four of those had even resulted in a reception hall with candles and white tablecloths and a beautiful woman in white.

  The longest one had lasted four years.

  Of course, the last thing Jackson had ever done was spare Carter.

  “You’re telling me,” Jackson said, “that you have never, not once, not even for a little bit of time, felt like you could maybe, possibly, wake up next to the same woman for the rest of your life?”

  Carter wasn’t quick enough with his answer. He should have said no firmly with his mean-cop look. Not that his mean-cop look worked on Jackson. Jackson Brady didn’t shut his mouth easily. Not even for cops. Hell, Carter had been right next to him when Jackson had mouthed off to the cops. Before Carter had his own badge, of course.

  “There is someone!” Jackson crowed. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t be that closed off.”

  Closed off? Christ.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Carter told him. That was for sure. “I thought maybe, possibly, once. But it ended quickly and it’s over.”

  “Who was it?”

  Carter shook his head. “No fucking way.” He hadn’t told anyone Lacey’s name. No one on the planet knew how he felt about her—how he had felt about her. And he was keeping it that way.

  He felt a punch to the gut with the thought.

  Actually there was one guy who knew—who had known. His buddy Garrett. Garrett had known how Carter felt about Lacey better than anyone. Better than Carter.

  But Garrett was dead now and that entire chapter, the entire possibility, was over.

  Carter worked to school his features before he let too much show to Jackson.

  Of all the people in Quinn, Carter could imagine telling Jackson about Lacey. And Lacey and Garrett. But Carter could not, would not, tell Jackson about him and Garrett.

  Jesus, even thinking that sounded weird. And like something it wasn’t. Garrett had been his friend. His buddy through the police academy. His work partner for the six years Carter had lived in San Antonio before coming home to Quinn. And he’d been Lacey’s boyfriend and then fiancé.

  And he was now dead, and Carter was so fucking conflicted about his feelings about…everything. Whiskey was the only answer when it all came to mind.

  And he couldn’t drink whiskey tonight.

  So he had to stop thinking and talking about all of it.

  “No one from here,” Jackson mused. “I would have been able to tell.”

  Carter rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” No one read him. No one knew anything Carter didn’t want them to know.

  “Would have been able to tell what?”

  Annabelle came up next to Jackson and wrapped her arm around his waist. Jackson pulled her snugly against his side.

  For just a flash, Carter thought damn. He’d missed a chance with Annabelle. She’d had a thing for him—something Jackson had delighted in telling him once she was very much, completely and totally his.

  Not that Annabelle was Carter’s type. At all.

  He’d never looked at the woman as anything other than a sweet, pretty past classmate.

  But now…there was definitely something sexy about her. Maybe it was that she was getting laid regularly now. Or that she was getting laid by Jackson. Carter knew his friend could make a nun blush. Back in the day, they’d shared stories. Since Annabelle, Jackson had clammed up though. But Carter got it. There was one woman, and one night, he’d never told Jackson about either.

  Turned out, even the biggest man whore could find someone who knocked him on his ass.

  “If Carter was crazy about anyone here in Quinn, I would have been able to tell,” Jackson told Annabelle.

  Annabelle gave Carter a surprised look. “You’re crazy about someone?”

  “No.”

  “He was,” Jackson clarified. “Says it over.”

  “It is over,” Carter said. “It just…got complicated.”

  That had to be the biggest fucking understatement of his life.

  And the thing was, it could have been simple. All he would have had to do was say yes…to everything he wanted.

  Fuck.

  Fucking weddings. They even made him get all soft and nostalgic.

  His phone rang and Carter almost cheered. He grinned as he pulled it from his pocket. Jackson rolled his eyes.

  “Shaw.”

  “Hey, Carter, there’s been a break-in,” Linda, the night dispatcher, told him.

  They weren’t very formal in Quinn. There was no need really.

  “A break-in?” he repeated. That was…unusual.

  Which was confirmed when Jackson snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Yeah. Bridgett and Ken Logan’s place,” Linda said.

  Carter was only about five minutes away on the Bennett farm. “Are they alright?” he asked, already on his way to his truck. He didn’t even care where Lance, the officer on duty tonight, was. This was his chance to get out of the reception and it promised more excitement than he’d had on the job in months.

  “Wait! Seriously? I’m supposed to believe there was a break-in?” Jackson called after him. “Come on, man!”

  Carter shot him a scowl but it was too late. Several people in the immediate vicinity had overheard. Dammit.

  He covered the mouthpiece and called out, “Nothing to worry about! Everything is under control!”

  That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be some curious souls who decided to head down to Maple Street. Because this promised more excitement than any of them had had in months
.

  He wound his way through the crowd toward the huge grassy field they were using as a parking lot. “Are they alright?” he asked Linda again.

  It was probably some kids messing around, daring each other to do stupid shit.

  “They are. But Ken has her at knifepoint.”

  Carter stopped walking. “Ken has her at knifepoint? He’s got Bridgett at knifepoint?” Carter started jogging now.

  “Not Bridgett. She called it in. He’s got the perp at knifepoint.”

  “The perp is a woman?”

  He wasn’t sexist. He really wasn’t. But the chances of a break-in in Quinn were a thousand to one, and the chance of it being a woman doing the breaking in were easily a million to one.

  “She’s a woman. And Ken’s not letting her go. At this point, I’m more worried about her than them.”

  Carter slid behind the wheel of his truck. “Is she armed?”

  “No. She has…cheesecake,” Linda said.

  Carter paused at that. “Cheesecake?”

  “Chocolate apparently.”

  Damn, he loved chocolate cheesecake. “What the hell?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what Bridgett told me. She’s also pissed because the woman is wearing a trench coat over lingerie and high heels. I think Ken might be the one in danger in between the two women.”

  “Ken’s cheating?” Carter asked. He let up on the gas a bit as he pulled out onto the gravel road. This didn’t sound quite as ominous, suddenly.

  Ken was forty-eight and balding, but he was a nice guy. As president of the bank, he had some money. He and Bridgett had been married for probably twenty-some years by now. In Carter’s experience, that meant that Ken had definitely cheated. More than once.