Stiff Competition
Page 22
He froze. “Billy?”
She smiled up at him. “Yeah. That’s the name of the character.” Her smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head quickly. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just . . . ”
With a jerk, she sat upright. “Fuck, I ruined everything didn’t I? Shouldn’t have mentioned the game. I’m so sorry.”
“Cassidy,” he said with a chuckle of his own. He tugged her back to his side, pressing her face against his shoulder again. “Nothing’s wrong.” He shrugged and hoped it was casual. “Billy’s my real name. That’s all.”
She never blinked, but the corner of her lips did twitch for a second. “You know”—her tone contained no hint of surprise—“I think I might have known that all along.”
He smiled at her, too. “I think you might have.”
She stretched up, pressing a kiss to the edge of his jaw. The simple touch heated his blood all over again. As he rolled over, pinning her beneath him, she grinned up at him.
He’d come home at last.
Epilogue
One year later
“Oh, my God! It’s Billy!”
The scream traveled through the long line of women waiting to get into the local gaming shop. Beside her, Gage shuffled his feet and ducked his head, a soft, anxious smile spreading his lush lips.
The front windows of the shop were plastered with promotional posters for Stiff Competition, Gage’s form front and center as the main character: his first major professional gig as a model.
That the model and writer were married after a very public, romantic reunion had, indeed, sent this game’s sales through the roof after a year of publicity buzz no other game had ever generated before.
Gage waved at his fans as he slid through the door, Cassidy quickly on his heels.
The store owner met them immediately. “You’re here!”
Cassidy held out her hand. “So nice to meet you in person.” She nodded toward the table set up in the back of the shop. “Is this where we sit?”
As if they’d have the opportunity to sit. These signings were always picture-heavy events, players standing in line for hours to get a shot with the happy couple.
Moments after they settled, the doors opened and women, stars in their eyes, streamed through the door, making a beeline for Gage. Who, like the rock star he was, stood and greeted them with a smile.
As he stood, Cassidy shamelessly ogled his fine ass. The same ass she’d nibbled an hour earlier, almost making them late to this appearance.
As though he could feel her gaze, he shot her a quick glance over his shoulder, saw the direction of her stare, and threw her a wink. His wedding band glinted in the overhead light as he put his arm around one woman, posing for a snapshot.
The woman then moved toward Cassidy, a poster clutched in one hand, which she shoved toward her amid constant chatter about an autograph.
A sudden lurch of nausea caught her off guard, but it was a phenomenon with which she was quickly growing familiar. Yep, I’m going to need to tell him soon.
He’d been talking about kids practically since the evening they’d reunited a year ago. Since they’d married six months earlier, children had been in their thoughts often, and now . . .
Her stomach lurched again, and this time, she knew she had seconds to make it to a bathroom before she threw up: something that had never happened with these bouts of nausea before.
She jerked to her feet, her chair clattering backward. Covering her mouth with one hand, she took off down the dim, dark hallway toward the restroom sign.
“Cassidy?” Gage’s worried voice was right behind her.
She slammed the door behind her, then hit her knees before the toilet. She’d made it just in time. Once she’d lost all her breakfast, her stomach muscles ached. She groaned, sinking back against the wall.
That wasn’t fun.
She felt better, though. As though she’d never been sick at all.
“Cassidy, I’m about to break this door down.”
Pulling in a slow breath, she reached up and opened the door. It swung inward, revealing Gage standing as though in a frame.
In the next second, he was beside her on the floor, brushing her hair from her face. “What happened?” he asked, the traces of frantic emotion still evident in his voice.
“Um . . . bad breakfast?”
His eyes widened. Understanding dawned on his face. “Oh, man, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
“I . . . ” She nodded.
He made a whooping noise she’d never heard from him outside of a bedroom, and next she knew, she was in his arms, and he was spinning them around.
She laughed for a few moments, but then: “Gage, I just threw up.”
“Shit,” he said, stopping immediately. “I’m so sorry.” Her feet met the ground again, and he loosened his arms but kept them around her. “A kid,” he said with wonder.
She grinned, excitement flitting through her. “A kid.”
He leaned down, for all intents and purposes looking as though he were going to kiss her.
She turned her head. “I just threw up!”
He chuckled, kissing her temple instead. “I love you so hard, Freckles.”
She sighed, resting her cheek against his chest. “I love you, too.”
She couldn’t wait for their next adventure. This one with three players.
About the Author
Micah Persell lives in Southern California with her husband, two children, and menagerie of pets. She writes romance with strong women, smart minds, and scorching love. She loves connecting with readers. You can find her at www.micahpersell.com, on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MicahPersell, and on Twitter @MicahPersell.
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Crimson Romance
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Copyright © 2018 by Micah Persell.
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First Crimson Romance ebook edition FEBRUARY 2018.
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Cover images © Shutterstock/Sjale, © Shutterstock/egd
ISBN 978-1-5072-0710-9 (ebook)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
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