TACKLE (Boston Terriers Book 4)

by Jacob Chance

  I pull away and her lips cling. She doesn’t want this to end any more than I do. “Grace,” I husk, inhaling raggedly. “We need to stop. I don’t want to rush you.” I cup her cheeks in my palms. “You’re worth the wait.” I press one more soft kiss to her swollen lips. “I might die from sexual frustration, but I can think of worse ways to go.” Setting Grace on her feet, I rise to my own. “Come on. Let’s get you home so you can get a good night’s sleep.”

  My phone beeps with a text while I lie in bed and prolong the inevitable necessity of getting up and beginning my day. I set my alarm fifteen minutes early so I have time to think about how much it sucks that I need to hit the gym. I’m working my first banquet at the Chestnut Country Club at noon so I need to get a workout in this morning.

  Plucking my phone from the black nightstand, I glance at the screen and smile. I have a message from my favorite person.

  Grace: Good morning. How are you on this fine Sunday?

  Me: I’m great now. How about you?

  I type in my reply and press the send key. Propping myself up on another pillow, I get comfortable as I wait for her to get back to me.

  Grace: No complaints here. I had a great time last night. Thank you, again.

  Me: Does that surprise you? And you don’t need to thank me.

  Grace: No, I figured we’d have fun, but where you brought me was definitely a pleasant surprise.

  Me: I like to think outside the box. I’ll try to come up with something even better for our next date.

  Grace: I thought we were having coffee tomorrow morning? Does that count as date number two?

  Me: The first time we had coffee was date number one. The party you came to was date number two and last night was date number three. You know what that means?

  Grace: That tomorrow is date number four?

  I laugh at her answer. I find her wit as attractive as her physical beauty.

  Me: You know what the three dates rule is, right? Sex on the third date.

  Grace: Of course I know.

  Me: Well, we’ve already surpassed it. Pretty good, right?

  Grace: I’m not patting you on the back because you’re taking care of it for me.

  Me: You should. I’ve been exercising mad restraint. Last night I wanted to lay you down on the blanket and have my way with you.

  Grace: Are you trying to get me to sext? I’m not going there. At least not yet.

  I smile at her reply and think about how much I’d enjoy sexting with her and wonder when she’ll be willing to.

  Me: Damn, throw me a bone, woman. Work with me. I’m dying here.

  Grace: Don’t be a drama king. No guy ever died from an erection.

  Me: Tell that to my dick. It feels like I might, and if I do my death will be on your conscience.

  Grace: I’m willing to risk it.

  Me: Way to gamble with my life.

  Grace: #dramaking #notattractive

  Me: Okay, okay. I’m joking. What are you doing today?

  Grace: I went for a run and now I’m walking back to my dorm. I’m about to grab a coffee and a bite to eat from the cafeteria.

  Me: I have to get up and get to the gym. I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for texting me. You made my day.

  Grace: I’m glad. Enjoy your workout. Talk later.

  Me: Bye, Red.

  Scrolling through our texts, I smile at our banter. I can’t wait to see her tomorrow. Dropping the phone on the mattress, I groan and roll out of bed. Time to get my ass in gear.

  Chapter Twenty

  Trevor

  I park my Range Rover in the lot designated for staff and pocket my keys as I walk along the cobblestone path toward the main entrance of the stately country club. The setting is picturesque, with immaculately manicured grounds and a golf course so thick and green it looks like each blade was hand painted by an artist. I wonder if they allow non-members to play here. I’ll have to look into it. Then again, eighteen holes of golf isn’t really in my budget right now. Hell, I can’t even afford to take Grace to mini golf.

  Climbing the three steps to the main entrance, large white planters of bright yellow and rust colored mums are spread about, and pumpkins so big they could win a contest catch my eye. I walk inside and take in the opulent decor including heavily veined marble floors and crystal chandeliers. I should feel comfortable in this atmosphere, but I don’t. I’ve been to the country club back home with my parents enough times to know what to expect.

  Chestnut Country Club is in a very affluent town and there are numerous similarities with the one my family belongs to. They could have been decorated by the same designer, and the people all reek of wealth. It rolls off them like waves on the ocean from the poker straight way they carry themselves to the crisp, buttoned up clothing they wear.

  I step up to the reception area inside the entryway. “Hi, I’m here to work the banquet. Can you tell me where to go?” The woman working behind the counter doesn’t even acknowledge my existence.

  “Excuse me,” I say and wait for her to look up. After about thirty seconds I realize she’s ignoring me on purpose and my anger is escalating. “I’m Trevor Lincoln, my father is Lawrence Lincoln.” That does the trick.

  She raises her eyes from the computer screen and flashes an insincere, ultra white smile at me. “Hello. How may I help you?”

  “The same way you could have helped me when I first walked in here. I’m looking for the banquet area.” I smile. “Today’s my first day on the job.” I can tell she’s annoyed with my answer, and dropping my father’s name is the only thing keeping her from being rude again.

  “The banquet hall is down this hall,” she gestures to the right. “You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.” I lean my forearms on the counter and crook my finger for her to come closer, smiling. “You should be polite regardless of who you’re talking to. Everyone deserves to be treated well.” Turning away, I head down the hall. I chuckle to myself and wonder if what I said will make a difference. Probably not, but it made me feel better to say it.

  I check in and change into the black collared shirt they provided for me. My keys, t-shirt, and phone get locked away inside a locker and before I know it I’m delivering glasses of water, mixed drinks, meals, and anything else they want. And they want plenty. Demands are made without basic manners and I’m ashamed for them.

  “Where’s my salad?”

  “I asked for more rolls and never got them.”

  “Can you hurry up and get me another beer?”

  “Why is it taking so long for my food?”

  No one seems to know how to say fucking please, and I’m aggravated by the lack of courtesy they show me. I’m glad my parents have always been respectful and polite toward others. My father might be a dick for giving me this ultimatum, but in the end it’s because he wants the best for me. His best and mine just don’t happen to be the same, and I’m not willing to compromise on what I want my future to be.

  The hours pass in a blur of nameless and faceless people, and then we have to set up another banquet room for a wedding reception. Around five o’clock I’m given a meal of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and an ice cold water. At six o’clock the guests begin to filter into the banquet room. I’m in constant motion serving drinks, appetizers, meals, and wedding cake until I leave at midnight. Having been on my feet for over twelve hours straight, I’m exhausted and my shoulders are aching from the combination of working out earlier and carrying large trays. I’m weak with hunger and I grab the two slices of wedding cake offered on my way out the door.

  Once I’m home, I grab a beer from the fridge and pop the cap free. The first sip tastes like ice cold heaven and drags a moan from my lips. I eat my cake standing up because if I sit, I’m liable to fall asleep at the table. Sucking down the last sip of beer, I drop the bottle in the recycling bin and add my paper plate on top.

  Trudging down the hallway to the bathroom, I take a quick shower to wash the sweat and food smell away a
nd remind myself to text Grace. I haven’t texted since this morning and I want her to know I was thinking about her.

  Wrapping a towel around my waist, I walk along the dark hall to my room and fall back onto my bed. I just need to lie here for a couple of minutes before I text Grace. My eyes are so heavy I can barely keep them open.

  I’m already sitting in class watching the doorway when Grace walks in. Looking adorable with her hair in a ponytail, a Pats hoodie, and tight jeans showing off her long legs, I’m not the only guy who notices.

  She sits next to me and drops her bag to the floor. Placing her elbow on the desk, she rests her chin in her cupped palm and barely looks my way.

  “Good morning, Red.”

  A cursory glance is all I get before she utters an unenthusiastic “Hi.”

  “You don’t seem very happy to see me. Is something wrong?”

  She presses her lips together, shaking her head. “Only that I haven’t had any coffee yet. I can barely form a complete thought.”

  I smile. “Hang in there. Once we’re done with this class you’ll have a cup of coffee in hand before you know it.”

  “Oh God, I can’t wait.” Grace drops her head down to the desk. Reaching out, I clasp her ponytail and slide my hand down the soft, fiery strands until my fingers slip free. Gripping the back of her chair, I tug it closer until there’s no space between our desks and slip my arm around her back. She raises upright at the screeching noise the metal legs make on the tile floor, but she doesn’t stiffen up like I anticipated. Relaxing into me, she rests her head on my shoulder. My chest tightens with tenderness, an emotion I’m not accustomed to. I’m floored she’s not concerned with who’s watching us and trying to hide our relationship. I hope she continues to be this way. I want the whole world, or at least our immediate world, to know she’s mine.

  “Wake me up when class starts.”

  I press a kiss to her forehead and soothingly rub my hand on her back. “If you’re too tired to get coffee with me, I can always bring you home and tuck you into your bed.”

  She snorts. “Like I’d be getting any sleep at all if you were in my room with me.”

  “You’re damn right you wouldn’t.”

  “Besides, you’re not getting out of our date that easily. I’ve been looking forward to it since you dropped me home Saturday night.”

  “Have you really?”

  “Yes, really. I missed you yesterday.” Look at her being all brave and putting herself out there.

  “I missed you too. And I’m so proud of you for telling me you did. I want us to be open with one another. You can tell me anything.”

  “Okay, then I’m going to fill you in on the fact that I was a little disappointed I didn’t hear from you at all yesterday. I thought since I reached out first, maybe you’d do the same.”

  “I wanted to call you and text you, but I didn’t have a chance. I had to…” I hesitate. I just mentioned how I want her to be open and confide in me and here I am keeping secrets. I want to tell her how money is tight, but it’s such heavy information for a new relationship. And then Grace will overthink every penny I spend on her instead of having a good time. I don’t want her to do that. I want to take her out whenever I can without anything concerning her.

  “What?” she prods. Before I can answer, Professor Gordon walks in, sparing me from making up a lie.

  “Here you go.” I set down her coffee on the table. “Be careful. The cups burning hot so the coffee must be too.”

  She smiles. “Okay, dad.”

  “Believe me, there’s nothing fatherly about the way I want to spank your ass.”

  Her eyes open wide as a pink flush climbs her cheeks. She turns her head from one side to another to make sure no one heard me. I don’t care if they did. “I can’t believe you said that to me.”

  “Why not? It’s the truth. And with your sassy tongue I’m sure you’re going to give me ample reasons to take a crack at it,” I laugh. Rubbing my palms together and wiggling my brows, I show her how much I’m enjoying the thought.

  “So spanking, huh?” Sparkling eyes contemplate me over the top of her cup as she blows on the hot beverage.

  “What about it?”

  She sips the coffee before placing it down. “It’s a kink of yours?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. It’s not something that’s turned me on in the past, but your ass is in a league of its own. Spanking it is the least of what I want to do.”

  “Oh boy. That’s it then.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She leans forward resting her palms on the table and whispers, “Ass play’s your kink?”

  I bark out a laugh. “Let’s say I’m open to trying anything you’ll let me do.”

  “What if I’m too vanilla for you?” Is she honestly worried about this? Everything she does turns me on. Jesus, just sitting here watching her breathe is sexy. The way her chest rises with each inhale and lowers with each exhale is hypnotizing.

  My fingertips learn the shape of her hand like a pen to paper, tracing each slender finger before skimming across the back of her hand. She watches and she shivers. “Vanilla’s my favorite flavor, Red. You smell like it and I bet you taste just as sweet too.”

  “Trevor.” Her eyes pop wide open and her head swivels around the cafe looking for witnesses.

  “What? Do you think I care if anyone hears that my girl smells like vanilla? I’m the luckiest bastard and I want the whole world to know. What’s wrong with that?”

  “I prefer to be more private about things.”

  “I guess if you’re with me that’s going to change.”

  “Do you think I’m that much of a pushover? I’m not going to let you run over me like an out of control train.” She meets my eyes, blue locked on blue. “Maybe you’ll learn to be less open about things. It’s rude to reveal too much personal information to others.”

  “You’re hot as hell when you scold me, Red. You’re all uppity and proper. It makes me want to do deviant things to you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Is there ever a time when you don’t want to have sex with me?”

  “It hasn’t happened yet.” I grin.

  “Are you like this with every girl?”

  I laugh. “Do you really think I’m some horny bastard who can’t keep it in his pants, running around after random girls on campus?”

  “All evidence proves the horny part at least.”

  “I want you. Make no mistake about it. You’re the only one who has ever affected me like this.”

  “Aww, I feel kind of special in a really weird way.”

  “Red, you’re special in every way.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Trevor

  “So you and my daughter are dating.” My head snaps over to meet Mr. Duffy’s brown eyes. He looks back down at the green pepper he’s dicing as if he didn’t just take me by surprise.

  “You know?”

  “I suspected, but thank you for giving me the confirmation.” He continues chopping briskly and efficiently, the blade tapping a pulsing beat against the butcher block surface beneath.

  “Damn. I hope your daughter doesn’t mind that I let it slip.”

  “I won’t say anything as long as you treat her right. If you break my baby’s heart, you’ll be hearing from me.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Duffy, I’m going to tell her we spoke. I’m crazy about Grace and have no intention of hurting her.”

  “You better not. I believe your intentions are good. I see the way you look at her.”

  “I care for her a lot. You have nothing to worry about, we’re taking things slow.”

  “Let me share some wisdom with you. You probably don’t want it, but I’ll tell you anyway. We hurt the ones we care about most without realizing or meaning to. Sometimes it’s unavoidable or it’s motivated by trying to protect the person.” Is he psychic or something? Does he know I’m keeping something from Grace? Or is this just the role each man assu
mes when they fall for someone? Is it universal to want to protect the woman you care about? I sure as hell never experienced this feeling before.

  “That makes sense. So what should I do to avoid unintentionally hurting her?”

  “Communicate and pay attention to her. Make her believe in you so much she can never doubt you.”

  I nod. “That makes sense. I want her to know how important she is to me.”

  “Then tell her and show her. Which one do you think is more important?”

  “Showing her?”

  “Bingo. How you treat her will set the tone for your relationship.” His words echo what Elle told me. “I show my wife how much I love her every single day.”

  “A friend of mine gave me the same advice, but how do you show someone everyday for years on end?”

  “By treating them with respect. It’s the little things, like opening doors for her and holding her hand. Putting her on the inside when you walk so she’s protected. Are your parents still together?”

  “Yes, they are. My dad is very protective of my mom, and I do all these things. He might not be the perfect father in some ways, but he loves my mom.”

  “There’s no such thing as a perfect parent, or a perfect son, or a perfect relationship.” He scrapes the vegetables from the wooden surface into an oiled pan, placing it on the stovetop. He wipes his hands on his apron and turns to me. “If you look for perfection in anything you’ll never find it.”