Shane knew she’d stayed to make sure the kid was okay, but he also knew the other reason she’d stayed. Her body came alive beneath his hands and it seemed to trigger a corresponding urgency within him. When he was inside her, he felt something he’d never felt before. Something undefined but . . . good. Damn good. He loved being inside of her. In fact, he loved everything about her.
Holy crap, where had that come from?
Shane pulled out of the kiss, staring down at Carly’s face. Her breathing was labored and her eyes took a minute to focus, but when she finally looked up at him, his gut clenched.
“Shane, I . . .” she said, still breathless.
“Hey, you guys! Someone’s here!” Troy’s voice carried down the hill.
Carly bit her lip, pulling out of the embrace. Shane stared at her a moment longer, trying to harness feelings that seemed to be pulling him in a direction he’d never been before. This was getting complicated. He needed to think.
“You guys!” Troy called again, Beckett barking happily in the background.
“We’re coming,” Shane answered. He looked again at Carly, but the look he thought he’d seen was gone. “You’d better lead the way. It’s probably a Girl Scout selling cookies and I’m likely to scare the hell out of her in my current state.” Laughing, she grabbed his hand, tugging him up the hill. The position gave him an excellent view of her shorts. “On second thought, you’d better walk next to me,” he said with a groan as he pulled up beside her.
If the sounds of toddlers squealing didn’t calm his aroused state, the sight of a black Jeep Cherokee parked in the circular driveway did.
“Shit,” Shane mumbled, spying Roscoe sitting on the long wooden front steps of the cabin. Carly had obviously seen him first, quickly slipping her hand from his in response to Roscoe’s angry glare.
Beckett barked while the kid chased one of the twins across the lawn as Roscoe’s wife, Tiffany, chased the other. “Beckett won’t hurt you,” the kid said, not realizing that to the twins, having someone chase them was their favorite game. Carly stopped well short of the front steps, pretending to take in the chaos.
“I thought that at least she’d have more sense.” Roscoe didn’t wait for them to get inside before voicing his disapproval.
“Leave her out of it,” Shane said, stomping up to the porch steps.
“It’s a little late now. Jeez, Shane, you’ve still got to get through training camp to play this year. She’s the coach’s sister-in-law, for crying out loud. And the GM’s assistant! Did you not learn anything in San Diego?”
“It’s not what you think,” Shane said, barely keeping his voice from a yell. His hands were in fists and he was sorely tempted to leap up the steps and throw Roscoe over the railing. It wouldn’t take much more to push him to do it, either.
Roscoe had the nerve to laugh. “Give me a break, Devlin. I’ve known you too long not to know exactly what this is.” He put both hands up as Shane started toward him. “Hey, you don’t pay me to be your moral compass. Just to clean up the mess afterward. And my rates will be the same when this one needs mopping up, too.”
“Wow, Shane, your agent is as much of an egotistical ass as you are.”
Shane spun around to look at Carly standing beside him, her arms mutinously crossed beneath her breasts as storm clouds formed in her eyes. He felt a pinch of pride as she stood up to Roscoe—who was being an egotistical ass—but he hated that she felt she needed to defend herself. And he wasn’t that happy she’d essentially called him an egotistical ass, as well. He thought they’d progressed beyond that.
“There won’t be anything to mop up,” she said, notching her chin a bit higher. Shane stepped in front of her, essentially cutting her off from Roscoe’s glare. From now on, Shane would be the one doing the defending.
“I said leave her out of it, Roscoe.” As grand gestures went, it was pretty lame.
Roscoe arched an eyebrow at him. “Huh, that’s interesting,” he said, offering up a smirk.
Carly huffed behind Shane.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Shane asked.
“Boarding schools.” Roscoe thumped a large manila envelope that lay on the step beside him. “If you want the kid settled before camp starts, you need to do a little song and dance. The application process can be a lengthy one, but some schools are interested in waiving the procedures with the right amount of incentives. He’ll need to go on interviews next week.”
“Boarding school?” the kid said from where he stood on the front lawn, Beckett at his feet. “You’re sending me away?” The agony in his voice sent something flickering in Shane’s belly.
“Ahhh, for crying out loud, Shane! You didn’t tell him?” Roscoe swore. Shane looked at the kid. His lip was quivering again and tears filled his eyes. Hell. He’d royally screwed this up. Shane stepped away from the porch, but the kid wasn’t waiting around. With a sob, he took off down the hill.
“Troy!” Shane yelled, sprinting down the steps after him.
* * *
Carly shoved what she could into the gym bag Shane had packed her clothes in the week before. In the bathroom she tossed her toiletries into a plastic grocery bag, not bothering to collect her toothbrush from Shane’s bathroom. God, she’d been a fool. Despite knowing who and what Shane Devlin was, she’d fallen in love with him. Worst of all, she’d almost blurted it out to him earlier. Well, better off ending it before she got in too deep. As if she could fall any deeper.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She turned to see Shane filling the doorway, that menacing look back on his face. Letting her eyes drink him in one last time, she zipped up the gym bag.
“I’m doing what I should have done the day Joel was arrested. I’m going home.”
“Carly,” he said, his voice softening, but not his posture. “Don’t listen to what Roscoe says. He’s an idiot.”
“No. As far as I’m concerned, the only idiots here are the ones standing in this room. And your lawyer is right. I should have known better.”
“Don’t do this.” He’d moved closer without her realizing, sliding his hand over the one she had tightly gripping the handle of the bag.
Gathering her courage, Carly forced a smile as she lifted her face to him. “I have to do this. This was supposed to be just about sex. But I lost sight of that. I . . . I thought that maybe there could be something more. But I was wrong.” Taking a deep breath, she licked her dry lips, trying to steady her voice. “You’re not even capable of a relationship with your own flesh and blood. It would be impossible for you to love . . . to have a relationship with me.”
He reached out to touch her, but Carly backed away. “Are you saying that you feel something for me?” he asked.
Great. Leave it to him to latch on to the love word. She hadn’t meant to say it, but maybe it would work to her advantage and drive him away. After all, it sent most men running for the hills, didn’t it?
“No. I mean, maybe. If we kept this up I might,” she said, sliding her purse to her shoulder. “But I’m a grown-up and I can control my feelings, so don’t get all hinky on me. I’m going back to Baltimore so you can concentrate on getting ready for the season. That is your main priority, isn’t it? Shuffling Troy off to boarding school and getting rid of all the distractions? Well, I’m saving you the trouble. Now you have no excuses not to secure your precious starting job.”
Avoiding any eye contact, Carly hefted up her gym bag and walked past Shane to the door. She tried to swallow but her mouth was like cotton, and her eyes ached from holding the tears at bay.
As she made her way to the front door, she heard the sound of the twins chortling in one of the bedrooms, their mother trying to get them down for a nap. Roscoe sat in one of the wooden rockers on the front porch, a beer in his hand. Pushing through the screen doors, Carly spied Troy dragging his huge duffel bag a
cross the lawn to her rental car, a distressed Beckett following behind him.
“Take me with you, Carly,” Troy said, his voice wavering. “Please.” Carly’s heart broke a little more as she looked at the boy’s distraught face.
“Great.” Shane’s voice came from up on the porch. “A full-scale mutiny.” When she turned, he looked like the mutinous one. “You’re not going anywhere, Troy.”
Twice now he’d called Troy by his name. She only wondered if he realized it was too late. Troy shoved his glasses against his nose defiantly as he glared up at his brother. “I don’t need you.” Leaving his duffel beside the car, he stormed up the steps to grab the large envelope Roscoe had left on one of the tables. “How many schools did you contact?” he asked the lawyer.
“Ten or eleven,” Roscoe answered, his voice sounding amused.
“Are any of them that boarding school in Southern California? You know the one like on that TV show?”
Roscoe was grinning widely now as he slowly rocked the chair back and forth. “No, I didn’t check that far away.”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Shane complained.
“I’ve got lots of money, though, right?” Troy didn’t bother with Shane, instead directing his questions at Roscoe.
“Tons,” Roscoe said, clearly enjoying the boy’s tactics.
“Good.” Troy flashed him a smirk. “Then I really shouldn’t need to have anything more to do with you,” he said, turning to Shane. “After all, I can do and be whatever I want, right?”
Shane’s stance hardened a bit, but he didn’t argue with Troy. Offering up a slight nod, he watched silently as Troy sauntered back down the stairs and loaded his duffel in the backseat of the car. “Good, I’ll be sure and let you know where I land,” Troy said with a cheeky grin.
Which meant Carly was obviously going to have to do something with him. Sighing, she watched as Troy gallantly loaded her bag into the car next to his. Roscoe chuckled on the porch as Shane stood on the steps, arms crossed and hands tucked under his armpits. That errant lock of hair blew in the slight breeze, but otherwise his face was expressionless.
“I’ll take him to the beach. Lisa may be able to talk some sense into him,” she said softly.
“Fine,” was all he said. Troy reached down to wrap his arms around Beckett’s big head as Carly made her way to the driver’s side of the car.
“Troy,” Shane called before they got in the car. Carly flinched at the sound of Troy’s name coming off Shane’s lips. Striding down the steps, Shane stopped beside Beckett.
“Your parents would want you to go to boarding school.” His voice was quiet as he looked at his brother. “Your mom and dad didn’t really intend for you to be left with someone like me. Hell, they didn’t even like me. I’d be a horrible influence on you. They didn’t know what they were doing.”
Troy looked at him a moment before straightening his shoulders and pushing up his glasses again. “No. They didn’t know what they were doing. They thought that all that stuff about you being the Devil of the NFL was just an act, a way to get attention. Mom always said that you just needed to be shown love before you could give it. Dad, our dad, always said he was so proud of you. Because you’d made something out of yourself in spite of his attempts to screw your life up.”
Tears welled up in Carly’s eyes, but Shane’s face was like granite as Troy continued. “He always used to pray that one day you’d be able to forgive him for abandoning you. That you’d learn to understand that he was just a mixed-up kid himself. We celebrated your birthday every year and Dad kept a scrapbook with every article he could find about you. So yeah, you’re right. They didn’t know what they were doing. And I’m glad they’ll never know the real you.” With a pat on Beckett’s head, he climbed into the car.
Carly stood frozen, looking over the roof of the car at Shane’s emotionless face. Say something, she begged him. Instead, the silence surrounding them was deafening. The ache in her heart grew more severe as the gist of Troy’s words sunk in. It took everything she had not to go to Shane and offer him comfort. Instead, with limbs so shaky she wasn’t sure she could stand, she got behind the wheel and started up the car. Beckett whined as the car started to pull away.
“Don’t forget to feed the dog,” Troy yelled from the open passenger window. When he turned to face forward again, tears were streaming down his face. “Butthead.”
* * *
Shane wasn’t sure how long he stood there. He wasn’t even sure if his heart was still beating. He couldn’t seem to feel anything. Beckett turned his head to look at him, a sorrowful look in his big brown eyes. After a moment, he lay down in the gravel drive, plopping his head on his paws with a deep sigh. Breathing deeply himself, Shane forced his feet to move him back up the steps as the sounds of Carly’s tires on the gravel faded away. Christ, he needed a drink. Several, in fact.
Roscoe sat rocking in the wooden rocker Shane’s grandfather had made for his grandmother.
“What do you think is so goddamned funny?” Shane asked as he reached the shade of the porch.
“Oh, I’m just marveling at genetics. I mean, it fascinates me that the two of you could grow up in completely different ways, yet still have personalities so similar.” Roscoe chuckled. “The kid definitely has a set of Devlin balls.”
With a snarl at his lawyer, Shane pushed through the screen doors, headed for the liquor cabinet. Digging in the back, he pulled out a dusty bottle of Scotch.
“Hey,” Roscoe said from behind him. “I thought we weren’t going to open that until you won the Super Bowl?”
“According to you, that’s never going to happen,” Shane said as he twisted off the cap and splashed a liberal amount into a glass.
“Devlin, don’t be an asshole,” Roscoe said, taking a seat on the sofa. “You pay me to watch your back. You know as well as I do a fling with the coach’s sister-in-law is not the best idea if you want to make the team. Especially a team as morally out there as the Blaze. You say you wanna play football, break your father’s records, and win a Super Bowl. You can’t do that while messing around with the princess of the tabloids.”
“Do you really want me to hit you?” Shane’s voice resonated through the open room.
Roscoe laughed. “Dude, I’m feeling a little sorry for you right now, so I might let you have the first punch.”
Before Shane could reach him, Tiffany hissed at them from the balcony above.
“That’s enough, you two. Stop behaving like the twins. Who, by the way, I am trying to get to sleep. If you want to act like kindergartners, go outside and roll around in the dirt with the dog.” She disappeared into one of the bedrooms. The sounds of the twins wrestling faded as she closed the door.
“It still turns me on when she bosses me around like that,” Roscoe joked as he stepped around Shane to pour his own glass of Scotch. “I do owe you a free hit, though.”
“What are you talking about?” Shane asked, wiping spilled Scotch off his hand.
“You don’t remember?” Roscoe slid down into one of the overstuffed chairs beside the hearth. “I gave you a shiner the day I told you I was going to ask Tif to marry me. You deserved it, by the way.”
Making his way to the opposite chair, Shane sat, trying to recall the exact events of that day. They’d been sailing, he, Roscoe, Tiffany, and some aspiring starlet whose name he couldn’t remember. It was late afternoon and they’d just docked in the marina. Roscoe, a little wasted from a day of drinking in the sun, told him that he planned on marrying Tiffany in a Vegas ceremony later that night.
Shane was just trying to protect his friend when he suggested Roscoe give it a day or two. After all, she was a no-name model who he’d known for less than a week. At least, the conversation had gone something like that. Obviously, Shane might have added a little more graphic detail and colorful language because before he knew it, Roscoe laid h
im out flat on the wooden decking of the boat dock.
“Nah, I don’t remember,” he lied.
Roscoe gave a disbelieving snort. “You said I couldn’t possibly fall in love with a woman in one week. As if you were an expert on love. Hell, judging by events today, you wouldn’t know love it came up and bit you on the ass.” He held a hand up as Shane balled his own hand into a fist. “All I’m saying is I love my wife more today than I did eight years ago. I can’t explain it and I can’t deny what it is. Maybe you have feelings for Darling Carly—”
“I don’t,” Shane interrupted him, desperately wanting this conversation to end.
“Yeah, like you’d know if you did. You’re so busy shoving any feelings you have down that black hole where your heart is supposed to be. Jesus, Shane, that kid made me want to cry today. You can’t possibly say you don’t feel anything.”
Shane glared at him. He didn’t want to think about or discuss his feelings with anyone.
“No, of course not,” Roscoe went on. “Because that would interfere with your grandiose plan to knock your father’s name out of the record books. You do realize your old man is dead? He’s not going to notice whether his records are broken by you or not. This obsession of yours is consuming you. One day you’re going to wake up and wonder where your life went.”
Abruptly, Shane stood, sloshing more Scotch on to his hand. He didn’t have to listen to this. Picking up the bottle, he walked toward his office behind the kitchen.
“Don’t drink all that,” Roscoe called after him. “If you get too drunk, we’ll be stuck eating Tiffany’s tuna casserole for dinner.”
“Great,” Shane mumbled. He was well aware Roscoe didn’t marry the voluptuous model for her culinary skills. “Beckett,” he called out the screen door. “Come in the house. They’re not coming back.” The dog lifted his head to look down the road before laying it back down with a huff. “Suit yourself,” Shane muttered as he entered the office he’d been using to study game films.
Game On (AN OUT OF BOUNDS NOVEL) Page 25