Ty reached out and took her hand in his, not saying a word. He could tell by the way she spoke about him that she’d loved her father, despite his flaws as a role model. “How old were you?” he asked after a few seconds.
“Twelve. My mom gave me a choice, move down with her or stay with the boys. Meemaw was too old to take care of us by then. I wanted to stay. So Johnny became my guardian, because Watt had just gotten married, and here we are.”
“So your big brothers essentially raised you?” That explained a lot of things about Randi. Her whole life history explained a lot of things.
“Yep.” She slapped her palms down on the table and shoved her chair back. “So there you have it. My whole story, give or take a few things.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he told her, amazed at what she’d been through.
“And you never will again,” she said. “I just realized you don’t have a car here, do you? That’s why you stayed all night. You could have called a cab or woken me up. I would have taken you home. It’s the least I could do.”
Ty tried not to be offended. “I stayed because I wanted to. I know I could have called a cab. I’ve done it in the past.”
“Reminding me you’re a player?” she said, setting her bowl in the sink and turning to face him, leaning against the counter. “I get it. You’ve been around.”
“So have you,” he said calmly. “But that doesn’t really matter to either one of us, so let’s move on.” He caged her in with a hand on either side of her and leaned down until their noses touched. “You don’t have to work today. I don’t have to work today. What do you want to do?”
She blinked a couple of times, staring into his eyes. He could tell the moment she made her decision. “So you’ve met my crazy brothers and heard about my sordid past and you’re not running for the hills yet?”
Ty shook his head. “Nope.”
“Well, then, what do you want to do?” she asked, playing with the neck of his T-shirt a little, avoiding his gaze. Her sudden shyness was as sexy as her outrageousness had been.
“I have a pool.”
“I have a bikini,” she said with a grin, looking up.
“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” he told her, kissing her softly. “Can I put on your sunscreen?”
“I burn everywhere,” she said against his lips.
“Good,” he said, and then he kissed her properly.
Chapter 5
Brian leaned against the bar that sat in the back corner of Ty’s yard, behind the pool. It was a big bar, a half-circle type, covered. There must have been ten coolers sitting around full of beer on ice. He wasn’t sure if Ty even knew he’d joined the impromptu pool party. There were at least fifty people there, splashing in the pool, drinking beer, and generally having a good time. A typical Ty Oakes party, just like back in college. Brian had really thought Ty had changed. Last night’s fiasco and now this party made him pretty sure he’d been dead wrong.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Marian said, bumping him with her hip. Brian had been hanging out at her house, with her and Cass and Beau, talking strategy for the preseason when they’d noticed all the cars around Ty’s house. When Cass called Ty he’d told them to come on over, so they’d dragged Brian with them. He’d had no idea until then that Ty lived two doors down from his new friends.
“My thoughts aren’t worth that much,” Brian told her, sipping his cold Corona. She waited expectantly, just staring at him. That stare was vicious. No wonder she was a good coach. “Just remembering the parties Ty used to throw in college. Does he do this often?” He gestured out at the pool area.
“Never,” Cass said from his left, leaning back against the bar beside Brian. “I think he has a new girl. Most of these people are her friends. I don’t think Ty even knows them.”
“They seem all right,” Beau said, sitting on a stool on the opposite side of the bar from them.
“You’ll be singing a different tune when they sell pictures of us to the tabloids,” Marian said dryly.
“Is that why I’m in the middle of you two?” Brian asked, motioning to Cass and Marian. “And you’re over there?” He pointed to Beau.
“Yep,” Beau said. He cracked the tab on a can of Coke. “I swear, if one more person jumps out of the bushes and shoves a camera in my face, I’m going to fucking lose it.”
“I hope not,” Brian said. “Marian said you’re the cool-headed one. This team needs someone like that—based on the arrest reports, I mean.”
Cass let out a snort of laughter next to him. “He’s all bark and no bite,” he said.
The truth was that Beau Perez looked like he could bite. He was well over six feet, with warm-honey skin marked by black tattoos around his arms and neck. He had on a brightly colored, collared Hawaiian shirt, but it didn’t completely conceal his tatts. Brian had never seen him in anything but collared shirts, except his football gear. He had sharp cheekbones that made Brian think of Aztec warriors. His eyes softened the effect, revealing a placid personality and laugh lines.
“I wish they’d leave us alone,” Beau grumbled. “It doesn’t help that this has been a slow summer. No celebrity divorces or DUIs or bar fights.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Brian said. “I’ve got a call in to Kanye and Kim.” He really couldn’t blame the paparazzi for obsessing over the three of them. Next to Beau’s dark, exotic looks, Cass was the all-American football player, with his auburn hair and beard and Texas twang, and Marian was as girl next door as it got—blond, athletic, attractive, successful. The world was going crazy over the idea of the three of them fucking one another silly.
Brian had been there and done that. With Ty and one girl after another. But that had been years ago.
Marian laughed next to him. “I like you,” she told him. “You’re funny.”
“How was England?” he asked, referring to their visit over the summer to the American football team in their sister city, Birmingham, England.
“Cold,” Marian said with a shiver.
“Wet,” Beau said, staring out at the pool and the people gathered there as if he could prevent them from taking pictures with a glare.
“Awesome,” Cass said enthusiastically. “Loved it. They loved us. We’re like celebrities over there. They are way cooler about the three of us than people are over here.”
“Yeah,” Beau said with a chuckle. “It was all ‘Give those Americans a kick in the arse’ sort of stuff. Kind of funny.” Beau said it in a perfect John Cleese English accent and Brian laughed.
“We brought a surprise home for the team,” Marian said in a stage whisper. Beau laughed, but Cass frowned at her. “What?” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “We’re telling the coaches this week anyway.”
“Now I’m intrigued,” Brian said. “It doesn’t sound like you got T-shirts for everyone.”
“A kicker,” Marian said with delight. “From the Birmingham Bulls.”
“An English kicker?” Brian said, surprised. “Why?”
“Wait until you see him kick,” Cass said. “Guy’s amazing. Nigel Locke. Used to be a soccer star, I guess, then he got a knee injury. He can’t run anymore, not for any distance. No stamina in the knee. But he can still kick the shit out of a ball.”
“Interesting,” Brian said. “Maybe that will improve the Rebels’ popularity in Europe. Merchandise sales are important to the NFL.”
Marian touched her nose. “Bingo. That’s what we thought. He’s a character, too. Won’t arrive until next Wednesday.”
“I look forward to it.” They fell into an easy silence as they all watched the party. Several players were already in town and had showed up. Finally Brian spoke. “You know, I don’t need babysitting,” he said, not looking at any of them. He took a drink of his beer before it got too warm. “I’m a big boy. You can go mingle or swim or whatever.”
“If anyone else had tacked on the whatever, I’d have to punch him,” Cass said casually. “But you don’t se
em like the rude-innuendo type.”
“Nope,” Brian said. “And not just because I don’t want to get punched. Like I told Marian, I don’t care about your personal situation, as long as it works for you guys.”
“Why can’t everyone be like you?” Beau said with a sigh.
“Because not everyone is as smart and handsome and successful as I am,” Brian said, deadpan. If only they knew. “They need to live vicariously through misinformed and slightly condescending exploitive tabloid stories.”
“Amen,” Cass said. “Anyway, I want to swim. Keep your shorts on and don’t hump each other in public,” he told Beau and Marian, “and we should be fine.”
“No humping,” Marian said. “Got it. It will be a struggle, but I’ll try.”
Beau smiled as he lifted his Coke for a drink, and Brian could see what the other two saw in him. He was damn fine. Hell, they all were. He was almost as obsessed as the rest of the world with their little trio. He really hoped they managed to survive the press shitstorm. They left their drinks at the bar and wandered over to the pool, laughing. No touching, though. Nothing to snap a picture of that would earn significant dollars on the open market.
Ty had gone inside for something, and Brian was watching the girl he’d been with last night. Woman, really, he supposed he ought to say. She was a cop, after all. Brian had learned that much about her after she and Ty took off. She was pretty, the kind of girl Ty was attracted to, real and loud and confident. Those girls hadn’t approached Ty much in college. Brian, either. Not after he’d started hanging out with Ty. Probably because women saw them with one superficial piece of arm candy after another, and assumed that was what they wanted and so they stayed away. It was a self-perpetuating cycle.
Ty’s new girl was talking to her girlfriends. At least Brian assumed they were friends, based on the way they were talking. He couldn’t actually hear the conversation. Suddenly her head turned and she saw him staring at her. He didn’t bother to look away. He’d already been caught. She said something to her friends with a wave of her hand, and started to walk over to the bar where he was.
When she was about five feet away, some guy stumbled up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She reacted instantly, shoving him away angrily. “Don’t touch me,” she spat at him. “Not unless I say you can.”
“Jeez, Randi,” he said, holding his hands up as if he was surrendering. “What’s eating you? You’ve always been a bitch, but that’s rude even for you.”
“Thanks,” she said sincerely. “And you’ve always been a douchebag. Who invited you?”
“Sissy,” he said, pointing to one of the girls she’d been talking to. He stumbled in that direction.
She walked over to the bar with a more determined step. “What?” she asked Brian belligerently as she put her phone down on the bar.
“I’m not going to touch you, if that’s what’s bothering you,” Brian said calmly, twirling his bottle on the bar. “No worries.” He thought she’d overreacted a bit, too, but not because she was a bitch. More like she’d been on the receiving end of unwanted attention like that too many times.
“Why were you staring?” she asked, reaching over the bar to try to get a beer out of a cooler. She couldn’t reach it, so Brian got it and handed it to her, careful not to let their fingers touch.
“Because you’re pretty, a knockout in that bikini, and because you were with Ty last night.” She really was a knockout. She had curves that could reduce a man to begging. Some people might say she didn’t have a bikini body, but damn if Brian didn’t love the way she looked in it. Her tits and ass were crammed into those tiny little pink, flowery triangles and Brian was afraid he might drool any minute. He frowned when he saw the bandage on her arm. He’d heard she’d gotten shot last night, but other than the bandage and some fresh scratches, she didn’t look bad.
“I am,” she said unapologetically, “and I was. So what?”
Brian shrugged. “So nothing.”
“What’s up between you two? Brian, right?” she asked. “Randi.” He shook the hand she held out to him. He wasn’t surprised by her firm handshake. She took a long drink of the cold brew and Brian watched her throat work as she swallowed. Her skin was gorgeous. She looked and smelled like she’d taste sweet. She smelled like strawberries and coconut, which fit her.
“I coached him in college,” Brian said. “I was an intern when he was a redshirt freshman.”
“And?” she asked absently, licking suds from the corner of her mouth. She was looking around the bar for something, but when Brian didn’t answer right away she stopped and pinned him with a hard gaze. “And?” she asked again. Damn, these Southern women were hardcore interrogators.
“And he became too dependent on me,” Brian said, handing her the same load of crap he’d given Ty all those years ago. “He needed to gain more confidence if he wanted to get where he is today. So I took a job at Ball State and left. He wasn’t happy. Things were said. Things I regret, but I’m sure he doesn’t. He had every right to say what he did.”
“Which was?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“None of your business,” he said conversationally. She had a face full of freckles. He liked them, wanted to play connect the dots with his tongue. He almost smiled at the thought, knowing she’d probably punch him if she knew what he was thinking. “So you got his Porsche shot up.”
“I did,” she admitted, not pursuing her line of questioning, much to his relief. She shrugged. “He doesn’t seem too broken up about it. Said he has another one.”
Brian laughed because it sounded so much like Ty. He had never really cared for the material things; he’d just wanted to be loved, and that was the part Brian couldn’t handle. Because Ty wanted everyone to love him, and Brian didn’t share well.
“There’s more to that story,” she said, picking up the conversation he thought he’d ended.
He stalled by taking a drink of his beer. “There’s more to every story than what gets told,” he finally answered. “As a cop, you should know that.”
“Don’t make me get out my cop thumbscrews,” she said, teasing, with a smile. Well, that was a pretty devastating weapon at her disposal. She had a fucking dimple, too.
“I’ve been tortured by the best,” he said. “Do your worst.”
Before she could answer, Jo Jo Jones strolled up to the bar. The Rebels linebacker was a notorious ladies’ man, and according to the file Brian had read, a little too fond of weed. He was wearing a pair of swim trunks and designer sunglasses, as well as a thick gold chain that glinted in the sunlight against the smooth, brown skin of his chest. Two drug misdemeanors had landed him in Birmingham, another reject for the little NFL team that could. “Mmm-hmm,” he said, scooting in close to Randi. “What have we got here?” A few other players were coming up behind him. Brian had met some, but not all. Jo Jo started to put his arm around Randi, but before he could, Brian reached across the bar and stopped him with a hand on his forearm. Jo Jo looked more surprised than anything. He was a lot taller and definitely bigger than Brian, but Brian had been dealing with that disparity most of his life. At five foot seven, most men were taller than he was. It didn’t faze him.
“Don’t touch,” Brian said. Randi looked as surprised as Jo Jo.
“Ty won’t mind,” Jo Jo said with a smile. “He’s into that shit.”
“Into what shit?” Randi asked, sipping her beer calmly, as if Brian wasn’t standing there keeping some guy from mauling her. She hadn’t moved an inch, as if daring him to let go, or daring Jo Jo to try something.
“Sharing his ladies,” Rasheed Davis said. The defenseman came up on Randi’s other side, but he kept a respectful distance, and when Brian cocked his head to the side to look at him he held up his hands. “No touching,” he said. Brian didn’t know much about Davis except that he kept to himself and was a damn good strong safety. His skin was very dark, darker than anyone Brian had ever known. He’d never tell Rasheed, o
f course, but he thought it was gorgeous, from a strictly aesthetic viewpoint. The guy didn’t turn him on, but he could appreciate beauty when he saw it. He had on thick silver hoop earrings that made him look piratical and extremely masculine, which seemed weirdly backwards.
“No touching who?” Ty asked from behind Brian. Brian nearly jumped out of his skin. He’d been so busy protecting Randi from wandering hands he hadn’t noticed Ty sneaking up on him.
“Me,” Randi said as Brian quickly let go of Jo Jo’s arm. He took the hint and didn’t try to wrap his arm around her, even going so far as to scoot down the bar away from her a bit. “Although I’m told you’re into sharing.”
Ty had been watching Brian, but at Randi’s words his eyes got big and cut to Randi. “I…ah,” he stammered, and glared at Brian.
“Not me, man,” Brian said. He pointed to Rasheed, who just laughed.
“You haven’t told her?” Rasheed asked, holding out his hand to Brian. Brian grabbed a beer and handed it to him, assuming that was what he wanted. It was, and he unscrewed the top and took a drink.
“We’ve known each other not quite twenty-four hours,” Ty said dryly. “I thought we could work our way up to that.”
“And how long do you think that might take?” Randi asked seriously. “A week? Maybe two? Before you tell me, I mean.” She swiped a finger across her phone and tapped the screen. “Usually I don’t get shot for a guy for almost a month, so we’re on an accelerated schedule. How about next Tuesday, maybe?”
“Next Tuesday sounds good,” Ty said, humor in his voice.
“All right,” Randi said. “Let me put that on the calendar.” She began typing with her thumbs. “Ty going to tell me he’s into kinky shit. There, I’ve put that in. Now a reminder to myself.” She tapped the screen again and then spoke into her phone. “Tell Ty I’m totally into that.”
Calling the Play Page 5