Full Coverage: Boys of Fall

by Erin Nicholas

  Nolan didn’t know where to start with the arguments he had for her. “That’s one way to make things,” he agreed. “But what you do is just as valuable. Is that what you think? That you’re not good enough to spend time with them?”

  She dipped her head, focusing on the middle of his chest. “I’m just not very interesting. You can exhaust my topics of conversation and knowledge in about ten minutes.”

  He actually laughed at that, which pulled her eyes back to his. “Seriously? We’ve been talking all day, every day, for the past week and we haven’t exhausted your topics of conversation and knowledge.”

  “We’re talking about football.”

  “You’re telling me stories,” he countered. “It’s around the topic of football, but you haven’t told me a football story in a few days.”

  That tiny frown was back on her face. “What? I’ve been talking about the championship season.”

  “Yes. About the people and the feelings,” Nolan told her. Hell, she was practically writing his book for him. “Do you even realize that what you love most about Quinn football is the people?”

  She shook her head and stepped back. “What do you mean?”

  “Every time you start talking about a game, you end up going to the people. You’ve told me about the players—what they were doing, how they looked, what they said on the sidelines. You told me about the coaches—how they made decisions, the things they said to the players to get the performance they needed. And mostly you told me about the fans—how they acted, the little dramas that went on in the stands, the emotions, the fights, the celebrations, the traditions.”

  Randi stared at him. “I…I’m sorry.”

  “What?” He gave a soft laugh. “You’re a storyteller, Randi. Don’t apologize. You’ve given me so much amazing stuff to use. This book is about more than football, and everything you’ve told me is about more than football. You were the perfect person to talk to. You’ve observed everything about football in Quinn. Everything. Not just the plays and stats, but what it’s really like to love small-town Texas football. You’ve helped me describe how a single game can be about bringing people together, about hard work and faith and friendship.”

  He stepped close and put a finger under her chin. “You’re a storyteller. Over the past week, you’ve told me about when your family went camping and your memories of your grandma and how you’ve lived in Texas your whole life but never ridden a horse.”

  She swallowed hard, looking completely stunned. “But all those people in New York aren’t going to care about those stories.”

  “People who truly appreciate stories like them for two reasons—because they can relate to them and they make them feel bonded with someone, or because they teach them something new, gives them a new perspective, takes them somewhere they’ve never been. Your stories are relatable. We all have people we love the way you loved your grandma and we all have things we’ve never tried but that we should have. But they’ll also tell them something new. Someone who’s never been to a small-town football game will get caught up in your stories and feel like they’re right there in the stands with you.”

  Her eyes widened and for the first time she looked happy. “You really think I’ll be able to talk to all those people?”

  “They’re people.” He reached for her, taking her upper arms and pulling her close. “You love people. And you know what you do that’s amazing and important and makes people love you? You listen. You observe. You notice the little things. If you don’t feel like talking, don’t talk. You’ll still make them feel interesting. They’ll love you.”

  She put her cheek against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t believe that Randi didn’t feel confident in how interesting and amazing she was.

  “But I’m not worried,” he told her, running his hand up and down her back. “You’ve been using words to make me fall in love with you for the past two weeks.”

  She went completely still, but she didn’t pull back. She didn’t say anything either.

  Nolan knew he was pushing. He knew it was a bad idea too. They’d known each other for a long time, but they hadn’t known each other. He knew she was feeling the heat between them, but he didn’t know what else she was feeling.

  Which was interesting. He’d always prided himself on being an observer of life, insightful, astute. And more, able to tell the stories around him in a compelling way that made people want to be there. Randi had him beat in all areas.

  He didn’t say anything more. Just let his words hang in the air around them. Finally, seconds or minutes or weeks later, she leaned back and looked up at him.

  “People have said nice things to me before, but no one has ever made me feel these things before,” she told him.

  “What things?” You’re pushing again, Winters. But it seemed that, while he could watch the world around him and put what he saw into just the right words, when it came to Randi, he needed the words from her.

  “Interesting. Appreciated. Like you don’t want to be anywhere else when you’re with me.”

  His chest tightened and his lungs protested the lack of oxygen after a few seconds. He had assumed so much with this woman. More than ever, he wanted to show her that she was amazing and that the world would think so. Not just Quinn, not just him, but everyone.

  “Why do you think I’m still here?” he finally asked her roughly.

  “The book?” she asked.

  “You.” He said it firmly, looking her directly in the eye.

  She wet her lips. “You came back because you’re taking a breather between projects. It’s just a typical visit.”

  He frowned slightly, but shook his head. “No. I didn’t need to come back for anything but you. I wanted to come back sooner—I didn’t want to leave after Coach’s party, actually. And I should have my ass planted in front of my computer to finish the book that’s already past due. But I’m here because I couldn’t stay away any longer.”

  She studied his eyes, as if she was checking on how much of that he meant. Nolan knew what she’d see. It was all true. He should be locked in his office in his apartment in San Antonio right now, pushing the words out, pausing only to eat and sleep, and then only as much as was absolutely necessary. He was a month past his hard deadline and his editor was pissed. And now he was rewriting. His editor was going to come unglued when he saw that Nolan had completely reworked the five chapters the editor had already seen.

  But instead of pushing the book, he was here. With Randi. Because he needed that more. He’d thought it was because he’d finally gotten a taste of her. But that was only a tiny bit of this. He’d already had her, and not only was she nowhere near out of his system, but he’d found so much more he wanted from her. And now he was revising most of what he’d already written about Coach and Quinn and the Titans. Randi was adding so much and he didn’t want to get to the end. Ever.

  If he could sit in her shop every single day and just watch her and talk to her for the rest of his life, he knew he’d die a happy man.

  He blew out a breath. Damn. This was getting complicated. He’d started off thinking he wanted to steal her away from Quinn, sweep her off her feet, make her fall in love with the excitement of the city and take her away with him. But he’d been home this time longer than usual, and every day he was here, he added something else to the list of things he would miss when he was back in San Antonio.

  Randi must have seen what she needed to in his face, because she stepped back and her fingers went to the little buttons on the front of the silky white top she wore with her dark purple skirt and boots. She began unbuttoning and Nolan couldn’t have stopped her for anything.

  He wanted Randi Doyle in this office, right now. But it wasn’t about it being the high school newspaper office anymore. It wouldn’t have mattered where they were. The moment had changed from a naughty fantasy to something more, and they both needed this. They needed each other.

  He could feel that. She ne
eded to be loved. By him. And that was more than he could have ever dreamed up on his own.

  She slid the shirt off, letting it drop to the floor behind her. Her skirt was next. Her clothes would be covered in tiny fringes of paper and pencil-eraser shavings when she got dressed again. And that seemed very appropriate suddenly.

  She stood in front of him in a silky white bra that lifted her beautiful breasts, her nipples already hard behind the cups. Her panties were also white but with dark purple flowers that matched her skirt. And she still had the boots on. So Randi. Simple white underwear with feminine flowers and lace, but skimpy enough to show off lots of smooth, tanned skin and make his mouth go dry. Pretty and sexy at the same time.

  Nolan reached for her hands and lifted one to his lips.

  There was another contrast represented in her hands. She wore the multitude of silver rings she always put on to go out. Very feminine rings that would be a hazard at work but that she clearly loved when she didn’t have her hands in a car’s guts. Her nails were freshly painted a dark purple color tonight. Nolan had noticed she always wore dark polish, and he knew it was to disguise the grease under her nails that would never completely clean up. She had some new scrapes on her hands, as well as old scars, and he kissed each one. She was a gorgeous, sweet, sexy, sassy Texas girl, who made everyone love her, who got her hands dirty at work and then could get good and dirty in the bedroom.

  She was perfect.

  After he’d kissed all of the marks on her hands, he tugged her closer and kissed his way up her arm. Goose bumps broke out on her skin and a shot of satisfaction went through him. He kissed over the top of her shoulder and to her neck. Her head fell to the side and she gave a happy sigh as his lips met the sensitive skin just below her ear. His other hand cupped her head and he kissed along her jaw to her lips. The first kiss was sweet, lips only, and he absorbed the way she seemed to melt into him with only that little bit.

  Nolan pulled back and looked down at her. “I want you. Spread out on this desk, right now.”

  She nodded and swallowed. “Anything you want.”

  Something about the words made him pause. “I want what you want.”

  She gave him a smile that was cute and sexy as hell at the same time. “Well, this is your fantasy spot,” she told him. “We can do mine another time.”

  Another time. He liked the sound of that. But he couldn’t resist asking, “Where’s your fantasy spot?”

  Her smile grew. “Fifty yard line in what is now Nicholas Carr Stadium.”

  Of course it was. He chuckled. “Not the end zone?”

  “I like the fifty better,” she said.

  He couldn’t resist running his hand up and down her arm. “Why?”

  She trembled under his touch. “Because the fifty is where anything can happen, things can go either way, and it’s all about who wants it more. It’s all about possibilities and desire at the fifty.”

  Nolan stared at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You really think you don’t have a way with words and imagination?”

  She blushed slightly and dipped her head.

  “Oh, no.” He tipped her chin up. “I will find a way of making that fantasy come true. I want to be a part of that.”

  She gave him a small smile.

  God, how did this woman not know what she did to him? What she had inside of her?

  She reached behind her and unhooked her bra. As it fell away and he drank in the sight of her breasts, his chest tightened. Then she hooked her thumbs in the top of her panties and pushed them to the tops of her boots.

  “Boots on,” he said gruffly as she started to wiggle out of one.

  Her smile grew. “The city boy likes my boots?”

  “Fuck yeah.” He picked her up and set her on the edge of the desk and pulled her panties off over the boots. “You might have to keep them on in bed forever.” He looked directly into her eyes, in spite of her being completely naked and only inches away. “And before I lick you to your first orgasm of the night, you should know that I’m in love with you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Randi felt heat and something so much more—something happier and exciting and right—rock through her.

  Nolan had just officially said that he was in love with her.

  Nolan Winters, who had a huge life in San Antonio, who had left Quinn and done amazing things, who was a New York Times bestselling author and spent his time with people who made the news—literally—and who wrote books that taught and influenced and challenged other people, was in love with her.

  She blew out the breath that had lodged in her chest and then stretched her legs out, wrapping them around his hips and pulling him in. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, long and deeply.

  She didn’t let him go for almost three full minutes. When she did, she told him honestly, “I’m in love with you too.”

  She hadn’t realized it until he’d said it. Or maybe she hadn’t let herself really think about it, because it seemed ridiculous that Nolan would feel the same way. But now, she felt it. He’d been sweet, not pushing, not trying to get her clothes off at every turn, but he’d spent time, really talking and listening. She’d never had a man’s ongoing attention like that. At least not without sex involved. And sure, he needed help with his book, but they’d gone off on so many tangents, she wasn’t sure she’d given him anything useful in days. But tonight he’d truly made her feel appreciated and interesting.

  Nolan didn’t seem to know what to say to her declaration and she smiled, thinking that the word man didn’t know what to say.

  So she let him talk with his body. “Love me, Nolan.”

  He let out a long, shaky breath, and then he kissed her.

  And it was unlike any other kiss of her life. He held her head in his hands, his lips taking over every thought in her mind. The kiss was deep and hot, then sweet, then soft, then hungry. It felt like they went through every emotion in that one kiss, and Randi felt the eagerness to be close to him, to be a part of him, climbing with every second.

  Finally, his hands went from her head to her ass and he brought her up against him. He was still dressed and she was totally naked except for her boots. The rough denim of his jeans rubbed against her clit and she whimpered as the sensations ripped through her.

  He let her up for air, but dipped his knees so he could take a nipple into his mouth. He didn’t ease in. He sucked hard and Randi gasped, pleasure streaking from breast to clit.

  She gripped the back of his head, arching closer, and rubbing against the denim-clad length of his cock.

  “Lie back,” he said huskily, lifting his head.

  She complied immediately. She lay back on the desk, feeling the folders and paper shifting underneath her. She really hoped the kids working in here wouldn’t mind the wrinkles on Monday. Not that they would know what caused them—she giggled thinking about it.

  “What?” he asked, his gaze hungrily taking in the view.

  She was on her back, her legs spread on either side of his hips.

  “Just hoping I’m not ruining anyone’s homework.”

  He gave her a wicked grin. “I’ll leave a note explaining what happened. No one will mind.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “Oh, come on. I want everyone in this town to know I nailed Randi Doyle in the newspaper office.” His gaze tracked over her again and he ran a hand up and down her leg. “I want to give my fellow nerds hope.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “Well, be sure to tell them not to assume things because of a cheerleading uniform or just because she doesn’t like math class.”

  “Is that what I did?” he asked.

  “Isn’t it?”

  He gave a nod. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “I can tell you, in high school, I could have used a lot of…” She trailed off when she realized how she’d been about to finish that sentence.

  He squeezed her
calf. “Tell me.”

  She knew she could say anything to him, somehow. They’d only really been getting to know each other for a few days, but it felt like so much longer. She’d told him things she’d never told anyone else, and tonight he’d convinced her that all of that had actually made him fall for her.

  She took a breath and said softly, “You.”

  His hand stopped moving for a second. “Me?”

  She nodded. “I could have used a lot of you in high school. The way you look at me. The way you make me feel.”

  His eyes darkened and he leaned in, one big hand wrapped around her calf, bracing his other hand on the desk beside her hip. “How do I look at you and make you feel?”

  “Special.”

  Nolan didn’t say anything to that for a moment. He just looked at her, heat and hunger in his gaze.

  Then he dropped to his knees between her legs. The first touch of his tongue was on the ladybug tattoo on her hip that she’d shown him so long ago at the football party. The second was firm and exactly on the spot where she was aching for him. He licked over her clit and she arched her back, gasping. He didn’t go easy. He licked and then sucked, sliding two fingers into her. The pressure was perfect, but it was the words that made her melt and wound her tight at the same time.

  “So beautiful.” “Perfect”. “Everything I’ve ever wanted.” “Worship you”. And her favorite, the one that sent her flying, “Love you.”

  Randi was still gasping for breath when Nolan rolled her to her stomach as he stood.

  The newspaper underneath her crinkled and slid with her as her feet touched the floor and her stomach and breasts pressed into the desktop.

  “You have newsprint on your ass.” Nolan stroked his palm over the curve of her butt that had been on top of the newspaper.

  “Oh, crap.” She started to get up.

  “Sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice was rough.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. He looked completely turned on, his eyes still on her butt. She grinned. “Next tattoo is going right there. Script font. Maybe one of the quotes from the wall.”