Wild Card (Texas Titans #5)

by Cheryl Douglas

  Jaxon smiled. “I’m willing to bet they still do. Remember the Christmas party last year? I was dancing with your mama, and you were dancing with Carly. Ethel said she wondered when you were gonna get your head outta your ass and realize that girl was perfect for you.”

  Brett chuckled then cursed when the action caused his split lip to scream in protest. “She did not say that. My mama doesn’t cuss.”

  “She said something like that. Point is she said the same thing we’ve all been thinking for years. What the hell took you so long to figure this out, man?”

  “I guess I was scared.” Admitting the truth wasn’t easy, but it was a hell of a lot easier than the prospect of losing Carly because he wasn’t prepared to man up and acknowledge his feelings for her. “Commitment, marriage, kids—the whole thing. Man, that’s serious.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Jaxon grinned. “But speaking from experience, it can change your life in the best possible way.”

  Brett had never seen his friend happier than he’d been since he slipped that ring on Sela’s finger, and he wondered if he would walk around with that stupid grin if he knew he was going home to Carly every night. No doubt.

  “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but I’m going to give it to you anyway.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “Carly let you go because you didn’t give her a choice. She’s a strong, self-respecting woman. She loved herself too much to keep setting herself up for rejection.”

  “If this is supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t.”

  Jaxon gave him a you-can’t-be-serious look. “I don’t give a damn whether it makes you feel better or not. I’m gonna tell it like it is ‘cause I know you’d do the same for me.”

  “Fine, tell me.” As if I have a choice.

  “When I let Sela go, I thought it was for her own good. I didn’t think I could ever be the man she needed, and I loved her too much to see her sacrifice her future because I was too messed up to work through my issues.”

  “You’re saying I have issues?” Brett might have smiled if it didn’t hurt so much. Damn Dylan and his right cross.

  Jaxon grinned. “They could write a book about your issues. But that’s not the point.”

  Brett tapped his gold watch. “Can we get to the point? ‘Cause I’d kinda like to hear it before I’m too old to care.”

  “You need to let her go. That’s my point.”

  That was the last thing he’d expected Jaxon to say. Jax was a fighter. When he wanted something, whether in business or his personal life, he went for it no matter what.

  “No way. Not gonna happen.”

  “If I’d fought to hold on to Sela, we never would’ve ended up together. I wasn’t ready. That’s why I let her go.”

  “But I am ready to take this thing with Carly to the next level,” Brett said.

  “But she’s not, is she?”

  “She claims she’s not, but I know she’s just scared. I have to prove to her that—”

  “No, what you need to do is prove to her that you trust her enough to take a step back and allow her to make her own decision.”

  “But what if she chooses Dylan?” Brett couldn’t even look Jaxon in the eye when he said that.

  “Then she wasn’t yours to begin with.” Jaxon held up his hand before Brett could argue. “I know that’s not what you wanna hear, but if you really love this girl, you’re still gonna feel the same way six months or a year from now.”

  “I can’t wait that long. I want to be with her now.”

  “Think how she must have felt waiting for you all those years.”

  Ouch, low blow. “You know me, Jax. I’m not good at sittin’ around doin’ nothing, especially when I stand to lose everything. Man, that’s what this girl means to me—everything.”

  “You need to take off for a while. Get your head on straight.”

  “No, what I need is—”

  “Just hear me out.” Jaxon waited until he heard Brett’s sigh of resignation. “You attacked one of your best friends today. Face it—you’re not in a good place.”

  Jaxon was right, but leaving town didn’t feel like the answer. That would only give Dylan the opportunity to get closer to Carly, and Brett couldn’t allow that. He’d meant it when he said he had no intention of backing off unless Carly told him she could never love him again.

  “Just take a few days, a couple of weeks, and go up to your cabin. Hell, take a cruise. Whatever. Just get out of here for a while. Put some distance between yourself and Dyl. You need to give Carly some space to figure out what she wants. The last thing she needs is you two clowns pressuring her.”

  Brett wasn’t comfortable giving Carly space, but if Jaxon was right, he may not have a choice. “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Brett hadn’t expected to stand on Sabrina’s doorstep that night, but if he were in her shoes, he’d want to know what he stood to lose if he didn’t step up. He tried to convince himself he wasn’t being selfish. He cared about Dylan and Sabrina, and he knew they had feelings for each other. They were just too scared or stubborn to take a chance. Maybe this would be the catalyst they needed.

  Sabrina opened the heavy wood door a crack and looked startled when she saw Brett. Turning on the porch light, she flattened a hand over her chest, her breath coming in short gasps. “Brett, it’s you. God, you scared me. I saw this huge guy standing out there and thought…” She shook her head, grabbing his wrist. “Never mind. Get in here.”

  “Sorry, I should have called first,” he said, feeling even more awkward about the intrusion. Looking around her large, spotless home, he wondered if she was entertaining someone. He hadn’t seen a car, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a date. God, talk about awkward. “Are you busy?”

  “No, I just got home from work. I was just going to pop something in the oven. Have you eaten?”

  “Uh, no, but you don’t have to—”

  “Don’t even say it,” she said, waving him off. “It’s no trouble.”

  Following her into the kitchen, Brett couldn’t help but appreciate Sabrina’s exquisite dark hair that fell in soft waves to her waist, slammin’ curves, caramel skin, and mesmerizing hazel eyes. He had no trouble figuring out how she’d gotten under Dylan’s skin.

  “It’s nice to have some company for a change.” She pulled a tray of lasagne out of the fridge. “Kiara sent some leftovers home for me,” she said, referring to her best friend and co-worker. “She thinks I get so busy that I forget to eat.”

  “She’s probably right.” Brett knew Sabrina worked crazy hours. She was a sports agent for her family’s successful company, and she’d been the one who secured the big contracts that had taken their business to the next level. Of course, the fact that her brother was one of the most respected players to ever play football didn’t hurt her cause.

  Brett smiled as he perched on a stool at the granite counter. Sabrina wasn’t one of those career women who believed her home was just a place to change her clothes. Her custom-built house was a perfect reflection of her—refined, understated elegance. “Carly decorated this place for you, didn’t she?”

  “I should thank you for that, by the way,” Sabrina said, opening a bottle of red wine before preheating the oven. “She was amazing to work with. I’m telling you, she’s a miracle worker. This place was literally a blank canvas when she walked in. I can’t believe what she was able to do with it.” Her eyes drifted to the original oil paintings lining the walls. “I think this is my favorite part: the art. It takes me somewhere else.”

  Brett admired the warm landscapes depicting various seasons. He understood why Sabrina was so drawn to them. They forced you to take a moment just to appreciate and reflect, something he didn’t do often enough.

  Brett looked around the sprawling bungalow and saw Carly’s influence everywhere. In the soft leather furniture positioned around the built-in cabinet in the adjoining living room. In the sumptuous throw ca
relessly tossed over the couch arm, beckoning Sabrina to curl up with one of the classic books lining the bookshelf. Carly understood it was the little details that made a house a home.

  “That’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” he said, nodding when she passed him a glass of wine. “Carly.”

  “What about her?” Sabrina raised her glass. “Hold on a minute. Before you tell me, here’s to reconnecting with old friends.” She treated him to that same genuine smile that lit up her face and stole the senses of every man in a room. “I’m so glad you stopped by tonight.”

  “So am I.” He touched his glass to hers, trying to find the words to tell her something that would break her heart.

  “You seem uneasy,” she said, touching his hand. “Don’t be. We’ve been friends a long time, honey. You know there’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

  “Have you, uh, talked to Dylan lately?”

  “No.” She excused herself to set the oven timer, but Brett could tell mentioning Dylan’s name made her uneasy.

  When Sabrina sat back down, she said, “Kiara would really let me have it if she found out I couldn’t even reheat lasagne without burning it. I’d just put it in the microwave, but she says that turns the noodles to rubber.” Shrugging, she reached for her wine. “What the hell do I know, right? I can barely make toast.”

  Brett smiled, feeling sorry for her. Sabrina wasn’t one to babble, and she was confident in all situations, whether she was in a locker room with half-naked athletes or at a five-star restaurant. “I came here as your friend to tell you—”

  The doorbell rang, and Sabrina breathed a sigh of relief. “Hold that thought, hon. Just let me see who’s at the door.”

  Brett cursed when he heard Dylan’s voice. Apparently they’d been thinking along the same lines. He had no doubt Dylan would be pissed to see him there.

  Sabrina led Dylan into the kitchen, her gaze flickering between the two men. With one hand on her hip, she pointed at Brett. “Okay, I didn’t want to be rude by asking where you got those cuts and bruises, but now that I see you’re both banged up, I have to know what the hell happened.”

  “We got into it at work today. Call it a difference of opinion.” Looking to Brett, Dylan said, “I thought that was your truck parked outside. What’re you doin’ here?”

  “Catchin’ up with an old friend,” he said, gesturing to Sabrina. “What else?”

  “Why don’t you join us for dinner, Dyl?” Sabrina asked. “It’s Kiara’s lasagne.”

  Dylan looked uncomfortable. “Uh, Sabrina, I came here to talk to you about something kind of important. I was hoping we’d have a little privacy.”

  Damn it. Did that mean Dylan had already talked to Carly and they’d decided to move forward with their asinine idea? “If you want me to leave…” Brett said.

  “Don’t be silly.” Sabrina walked around the island to check on dinner. “We’re all friends here. No secrets, right?”

  Brett glared at Dylan and crossed his arms. “Fine. Why don’t you tell the lady what you came to tell her?”

  Dylan looked angry and more than a little restless. He rounded the island and braced his hands on the end, keeping a safe distance between himself and Brett. “I’ve been, uh, seeing someone. Someone you know, Sabrina.”

  She froze, her gloved hand on the glass tray inside the oven. “You have? Who?”

  “Carly.”

  “Carly.” Sabrina looked at Brett. “That’s why you mentioned her earlier. Is that why you came here, to tell me Dylan and Carly are a couple now?”

  Brett could tell she was trying hard to pretend it wasn’t affecting her, but he recognized the pain in her eyes because he saw it every time he looked in the mirror. “That was part of the reason.”

  “Why can’t you just mind your own goddamned business?” Dylan demanded, slamming his fist on the counter. “This is between me and Sabrina. Why don’t you get the hell out of here so we can talk in private?”

  “No,” Sabrina said quickly. “I want Brett to stay.”

  Brett wasn’t sure if she was afraid to be alone with Dylan because she didn’t trust herself or him. Either way, he was happy to give her all the support she needed.

  Dylan glared at her. “Fine, have it your way.”

  “So you’re seeing Carly?” Sabrina closed the oven and turned it off with the pan still inside. “That’s what you came here to tell me?”

  “There’s more,” Brett muttered.

  “If you’re going to stay,” Dylan warned, “you’d better plan on keeping your mouth shut.”

  Brett smirked. “Are you gonna try to make me?”

  Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Oh, would you two just stop? You’re acting like ten-year-old boys. I don’t know what the hell you’re fighting about, but I don’t want any part of it. While you’re in my home, you either act civilized or you can get out.”

  Both men muttered apologies. There was just something about a strong Southern woman that commanded respect, and having grown up with one, Brett knew better than to push his luck. Apparently so did Dylan.

  “That’s better,” she said, removing her jacket and setting it on the back of the chair beside Brett.

  Brett watched Dylan’s eyes travel Sabrina’s taut body. In a sleeveless knit tank and tight skirt, she would have drawn any man’s attention, but Brett hated witnessing Dylan’s desire for another woman when he was still trying to convince himself that he and Carly had a future together.

  “So you and Carly?” Sabrina was clearly trying to keep her voice neutral. She twisted the stem of her wine glass instead of taking a sip as though she was looking for a diversion. “How long have y’all been seeing each other?”

  “Obviously not long,” Dylan said, his teeth clenched as he shot an impatient look at Brett.

  Did that mean he and Sabrina had been intimate recently? Brett was dying to know, but he didn’t dare ask, at least not with Dylan hovering. Sabrina would tell him later, if he asked.

  “Well, she’s a lovely lady.” Sabrina scraped a hand through her hair before rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re a lucky man, Dylan.”

  Brett rubbed her back, knowing how much it cost her to wish Dylan well with someone else.

  “There’s more.” Dylan’s eyes met Sabrina’s, and he covered her hand with his before pulling back when she stiffened. “Carly wants to have a baby.”

  Sabrina gasped. “A baby?”

  Brett closed his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to witness two of his friends being torn apart because their lives were on opposing paths. They only reminded him of his situation with Carly.

  “You know how I feel about family,” Dylan said cautiously. “I had some of the best years of my life playing football, traveling, living it up, but I’m ready to put down roots. This is where my family is. This is where I wanna be.”

  “So you’ve said,” Sabrina muttered, taking a healthy swig of the wine.

  Brett noticed her hand shaking. Had Dylan not been there, he would have pulled her into his arms and asked her why the hell she was willing to let a man she obviously loved walk out of her life. But he had to remain silent and pray Dylan would see what was so obvious. The woman loved him, and he was crazy if he let her go.

  “I’m tired of waiting for something that’s never gonna happen,” Dylan said, walking over to her fridge and grabbing a longneck.

  That kind of familiarity told Brett his friend had spent a lot more time at Sabrina’s home than he’d realized. Interesting.

  “No one asked you to wait.” She pinched her lips together when he leaned against the counter, crossing one booted foot over the other. “If you’re expecting some big reaction from me, you’re going to be disappointed.”

  “Is that right?” Dylan sneered. “I don’t expect anything from you, lady. I haven’t in a long time. I came here to tell you, out of respect, that I found a woman who wants the same things I do. Someone who makes me happy, who makes me laugh… who’s interested in me. Not waiting to
find out if there’s someone better out there to—”

  “Shut up!” Sabrina shouted. “Just get the hell out!”

  “That’s the way you want it?” Dylan slapped the bottle down on the counter. “Fine!”

  Brett waited until the front door slammed before he pulled Sabrina into his arms. “What the hell? Why didn’t you tell him how you felt?”

  She wrapped her arms around Brett’s neck, holding on tight. “He’s too good for me.”

  “What?”

  He drew back to scan her face, surprised when he saw tears in her big dark eyes. Sabrina wasn’t a crier. She was tough as nails, the agent who could shout down professional coaches and make team managers squirm. She broke free of his grasp, shaking her head as though she was angry with herself for showing emotion.

  “You heard me. Don’t you see? Carly’s the perfect woman for Dylan. She’s exactly what he’s been looking for.” She sniffled while reaching for a paper towel to blot her eyes. “He wants this picture of domesticity, a woman who measures up to his mother.”

  Dylan’s mother was a lot like Brett’s: traditional. “That doesn’t mean—”

  “Do you know Dylan’s mother hates me?” Sabrina asked. “She thinks I’m all wrong for him. She told me that. She said I’m a self-absorbed bitch who can never put Dylan’s needs before my own.”

  Air hissed through Brett’s lips as he imagined Mrs. Clark saying that. She was a pistol, no question about it. “You know Dylan. He doesn’t give a shit what anyone, including his parents, thinks. If he wants to be with you and you want to be with him, that’s the only thing that matters.”

  “Don’t you think you have to consider whether you’re compatible before you rush into a lifelong commitment with someone?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “I asked myself the tough questions when I realized I was falling for him, and I had to face facts. I can never give him the kind of life he wants. The life he left behind—traveling, late nights, parties, crisis calls—is exactly what gets my blood pumping.” She gestured around her. “Don’t get me wrong. I like having a nice home to come home to, but I don’t want a whiny husband complaining that I work too many hours or a screaming baby who makes me feel guilty because I’m never around. I never wanted that life. Dylan does.”