Mack paled. “You guys talk more than—” She stopped herself but I could tell she was angry, hurting.
With a sigh, I forced a smile I wasn’t feeling, and only because I knew that Mack needed support and would hate herself if she didn’t fix whatever had gone wrong between her and her dad. “Should we sit down?”
Everyone was seated around a circular table, a few bottles of wine were in the middle, and the plates were already set out in front of each chair.
Her mother stood and shook my hand, then pulled Mack into her arms and whispered something in her ear.
Mack quieted. “No, I don’t understand.”
“Not here.” Her mother’s smile was bright as she turned her attention to me. “So, I hear you play soccer.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I put on my best commercial smile and helped Mack into her seat, then took mine. “I just moved here from across the pond.”
“You don’t have much of an accent,” her father said. I loved it when people like him pointed out the obvious: you’re not wearing shoes, you don’t look like a soccer star, shouldn’t you be taller?
I gritted my teeth. So far things were not going how I’d planned. I could usually charm the silver off a coin. “Yes, well, my mother’s American. I spent a lot of time in the States.”
They both nodded as if that explained everything.
I turned to Mack, who’d suddenly gone motionless. “Alton.”
Seriously? This guy again? He needed a warning alarm! I watched as he moved to sit down next to us.
His hair was slicked back, his pants were fucking ironed and starched to death, and his button-up went all the way up to the top button—he looked like a tool. I’d never wanted to punch someone so bad in my entire life.
One-testicled piece of shit probably didn’t even know what a G-spot was.
I made a mental note to show Mack later—without the watchful eyes of her parents scrutinizing us—and glared at Alton as harshly as I could.
“Mack, don’t make a scene. You’re obviously still upset over what Alton said. I brought him here to apologize to you.”
Good thing I’d invited myself.
I cleared my throat. “Did he actually tell you what he said?”
Alton sat straight, hands in his lap. His eyes roamed over the table before he answered. “I don’t believe it’s appropriate for polite company.”
“Because it wasn’t fucking polite,” I snapped.
Her mother let out a little gasp behind her hand like I’d just announced I kill puppies for fun, while Mack scooted her chair closer to me.
“Is he your bodyguard now?” Alton asked, looking between us. “Or should you come clean about your behavior?”
“My . . . behavior?” Mack looked genuinely confused. I was with her on that one. What the hell was this prick getting at? “I’m sorry, you must have mistaken me for some other upstanding citizen. My behavior is none of your damn business.”
“Mack—” Her father sighed. “Alton is here to fix what’s been broken. You should be happy to put everything behind you!”
“I would put it behind me if you gave me time and didn’t force him to speak to me, and didn’t defend him when he called me a whore!”
Her mom’s eyes widened as Alton’s jaw dropped. “It wasn’t—”
Her father craned his neck toward Alton. “You said it was a simple insult taken the wrong way.”
“It was.” Alton narrowed his eyes.
“This is bullshit.” I held my hands in the air. “Sir, no disrespect, because clearly you’ve built an empire by reading people and being business savvy, but this guy is a fucking idiot. He’s playing you. I’m going to just go out on a limb and assume he wants you in his pocket because he wants deep pockets and power. But he announced to an entire restaurant, and with media present, that your daughter spread her legs for me, then accused her of sleeping with another player—which was completely untrue. It may not seem like a big deal to you. People say horrible things—but when it’s said about someone like Mack, someone so pure and beautiful, and clever, and . . .” Mack’s eyes filled with tears. “So fucking strong . . . well, that’s not right. The fact that you didn’t fire his ass the day he walked out on her isn’t just alarming—it’s abhorrent. And the fact that you didn’t stand by your daughter the minute she came to you for support—that’s inconceivable.”
Her mother’s jaw dropped.
And then her father stood, turned, and looked at Alton, really looked at him as Alton opened his mouth to speak.
“Don’t.” He held up his hand and then looked back at me for a crazy minute like he was deciding if he liked me or not. Without looking back at Alton he said, “Pack your bags.”
“You can’t be serious!” Alton roared. He glared at Mack. “You bitch!”
I was out of my seat before Mack could stop me.
Thankfully, her father grabbed me before I could launch myself against Alton’s face.
“It’s not worth it, son.”
His strong hands held me back, calming me.
And mentally crumpled like the sad human I was.
Son.
Son.
Son.
Memories flashed.
I squeezed my eyes shut against them.
And then shook my head as Alton kept hurling insults at me, her family, Mack . . .
“. . . wrongful termination!” he roared. “I’ll sue you. I’ll sue all of you!”
Her father made a motion with his hands and two security guards came over to our table and grabbed Alton by the arms.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” he snarled. “You think I stayed with her because I loved her? It was the easiest way to the top!” An evil smile crossed his face. “So innocent and stupid.” He jerked away from one of the security guys. “I wasn’t saving shit for you—I was just too busy fucking someone else.”
Her father threw the punch this time.
While Mack covered her mouth with her hands.
Her mother started chugging her champagne with wide eyes.
Alton arched backward and went sailing to the floor.
“It’s really been such a rough week for that guy.” I grabbed the bottle of wine in the middle of the table and handed it to Mack. “Just an idea, but if you thrash this over his head, nobody’s going to judge you.” I nodded encouragingly.
She took the bottle with tear-filled eyes and then gave me a watery smile. “I was thinking more along the lines of ripping out his only remaining testicle.”
Alton was carried out.
Ice was brought for Mack’s dad’s hand.
Not the strangest dinner I’d ever been a part of, but a close second.
“So, son.” Her dad looked at me earnestly. “I owe you an apology.”
“Let me take your daughter on a date and we’re even.”
He cracked a smile. “Like I could stop you.”
I just shrugged.
“Alright, Mack . . . stay out of the tabloids this time.”
I winced. “We’ll try . . .”
“You?” He pointed at me.
I nodded. “Yeah, unfortunately.”
“Just how famous of a soccer player are you?”
The table fell silent and then Mack squeezed my hand and kissed the back of it. “Dad, he’s the best in the world.”
Chapter Forty-One
SLADE
“So that wasn’t awkward or weird at all. Sorry about all the hugging, my dad’s a hugger.” She sighed as we walked into the stadium.
I’d told her I had dessert planned for us.
Her eyes had lit up like the dessert was going to be of a physical variety, so when we came to the stadium I knew she was curious about what I had planned.
“I didn’t mind,” I said honestly, and I didn’t. Hugging was intimate—my dad had been a hugger, it reminded me of him. “I can’t believe he asked me to go golfing with him.” I hoped to God Alton somehow crashed our bonding time and I could beat him with my
wood.
Mack grinned up at me. “Do you even know how to golf?”
“Please.” I snorted. “I can handle all balls, even my own, big shock. I know, let it sink in for a minute.”
She slapped me playfully on the chest. I caught her hand and kissed her fingers.
“I’m sorry for being a dick to you. And I’m sorry that I may unintentionally snap back into dickish behavior because I’m me and I have no filter and I just . . . well, Matt calls me a bull for a reason.”
“You have no peripheral vision.” She sighed. “It’s okay, I’ll just make sure that all you see is me in front of you so you never have to worry about what’s next to you.”
“Not gonna work, Mack, not when I want you by my side.”
She sucked in a breath as we walked into the dimly lit stadium. “So where’s dessert?”
“Dessert one is out there.” I pointed to the field. “Dessert two? Right next to me. I’ll make sure we’re primed and ready for it, though, none of that quick vacation sex . . .”
She ducked her head against my chest as we walked in the dark. I stopped us, checked my phone. “In three, two, one.”
A spotlight hit the field.
And a giant piece of chocolate cake sat in the middle with two spoons, two chairs, and a lit candle on the table.
Mack laughed and took off running.
And I just watched her.
I watched her joy.
I watched her live.
The girl who was so worried about dying on the plane. The girl who didn’t want the life she had—who needed to spread her wings and fly out on her own.
I wanted that girl. That woman.
I didn’t want the one her parents wanted her to be.
I wanted the one who would jump off a cliff because it was scary.
And I was going to make sure that everything we did was for the woman she wanted to be.
Not the one she had become.
I jogged after her. “Initial thoughts? Cute or trying too hard?”
“Cute.” She pulled up a chair and reached for the fork. “This feels like we’re both breaking in and having a cheat day, I love it.”
“Hah, I told Coach ahead of time, but you’re right about the cheat day.”
She didn’t even wait for me, just dug into the cake and took a huge bite that ended up spreading chocolate across her lips. She licked the excess off, and my body jolted at the motion. “This . . . I think I like this better than your mouth.”
“Well, cake time is over,” I growled, then reached for the plate.
“I’m kidding!” She licked her lips again. “Tell me you baked this and I’m never letting you go.”
“Hah, I didn’t.” I lowered my voice. “My, um, my mom did.”
Her fork clattered to the table before she picked it up again and stared through me. “Your mom?”
“Yeah, I kind of texted her and asked for a favor and then blurted out that there was this beautiful girl I wanted to win over after being the jack of all asses, not that I needed to since she’d already guessed weeks ago that I had someone in my life I wanted.”
“I see what you did there.” She pointed the fork at me. “Keep talking . . .”
“Her next text was a simple ‘Chocolate, and when do you need it?’” I laughed.
“Your mom’s a genius, can I . . .” Her eyes darted away from mine. “Can I maybe meet her someday?”
I grinned. Loving the way she asked if she could meet my mom, like I didn’t want that more than anything. “You can meet her any day you want. She doesn’t live far from me.” I cleared my throat. “It’s, uh . . . it’s been hard since my father’s . . . death.”
Mack reached her hand toward mine and gripped. “I’m so sorry.”
“I need to say something. You asked if you were easy and it got me thinking. I know we both swore we wouldn’t talk about that night, but I also promised not to kiss you and I broke that rule several times already. I just”—I exhaled—“need to get this off my chest.”
Her nostrils flared, her breathing deepened.
“It wasn’t a one-night stand for me,” I confessed. “I know I said that in the beginning . . . accused you of . . .” I sighed. “I can still smell your skin.”
She tilted her head. “Because I’m sitting across from you?”
“No, not like that.” I searched for the right words, probably making a complete mess out of everything. “I mean, I could still smell your skin, I could still taste you . . . weeks later. You’d been a part of me, and I felt so guilty that I still thought about you instead of my father. I blamed you for his death even though you didn’t do anything. I blamed you for me not getting to hear his voice again.” I held her gaze even though I was terrified of what I might see in her eyes. “I didn’t want to blame myself, it hurt too much, and then the guilt just ate away at me, the guilt that I should be mourning him—not still dreaming of you.”
“Slade.” She took a deep breath, and her tongue flicked her upper lip. “It’s okay to live your life while you mourn, and it’s okay to feel guilty. It’s okay to miss him, to give yourself permission to grieve. And I don’t blame you for blaming me. I’ll take it.” A tender smile lit her face. “If it makes it easier to deal with—I’ll take the blame, I’ll take it all.”
I stood. Walked over to her chair. Pulled her to her feet and kissed her hard. Imprinted my mouth on hers.
“No,” I said between heated kisses. “You don’t need to take the blame, but the fact that you’d be willing is enough for me to want to show you how much I care about you, how much I want to see where this can go if we let it—if we trust each other.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Trust, huh?”
“Yeah, trust.” I held her close. “Think you can trust me?”
“You’ll have to prove yourself there, Mr. Rodriguez.”
I reached down and swiped the chocolate frosting off her plate, then leaned in and whispered, “Count on it.”
I pressed the chocolate to her cheek and patted it there.
“Slade!”
I ran like hell.
She chased me.
And when she wasn’t even close to catching me I stopped, turned, and held my arms open wide.
She hopped into them and I licked the chocolate from her cheek and slid my tongue across her jawbone and lips. “You taste so good I’m tempted to take a bite.” I nibbled her lower lip, sucking more chocolate from her mouth. Her sugared tongue was so sweet I wanted more. I cupped her cheeks gently with both hands, diving past her lips again for taste after taste, and when the chocolate was gone—I didn’t stop.
She melted against me.
The smell of fresh grass and the stadium mixed with the taste of her—it was something that I would never forget, something that would haunt me until I was a cranky old bastard talking about the good ol’ days.
And one very specific day.
The day I kissed Mack on the field in the middle of the stadium—the night I promised I wouldn’t let go again, the night I realized that if that smell of fresh grass, the feel of being in front of crowds of people, went away.
But I still had Mack.
It would be more than enough.
She swayed against me, her mouth still open, her lips parted like she couldn’t get enough as she returned my kiss. The faint scent of chocolate hung between us.
A sizzle of awareness crackled.
“Mack,” I rasped, pulling away. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
She sighed.
It sounded like a good sigh.
But I braced myself for rejection—God knew I deserved it.
“I just have one question.”
“Alright . . .”
She leaned in, face completely serious, eyes locked on mine. “Have you had sex on this soccer field yet?”
It took me a few seconds to respond, and then my brain was going a million miles a minute. “First off, I would never have sex with one woman w
hile the taste of the one who got away was still on my tongue.” Her breath hitched. “Second, Matt said not to do anything stupid.” She nodded. “And third . . .” My eyes fell to her chest as she slowly pulled the straps of her dress over her shoulders. “Third,” I repeated like an idiot.
“Third.” She nodded. The dress was past her shoulders, then her hips, a wiggle here, a wiggle there. I was hypnotized by the sway of those hips, the faint scent of her arousal.
“Yeah, my third . . .” The dress hit the grass. I would never get that vision out of my head: white sundress on green grass, gorgeous woman in nothing but a nude thong in front of me. “Point.” I finally got it out. “My third point was that . . .” She tilted her head, then arched her back, giving me an incredible view of her breasts. “Um, third, and um, fourth points?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck it, I have no idea why I’m still talking, get over here.” I reached for her elbow and pulled her close, then pulled my shirt over my head, my movements by no means seductive or slow.
Everything was jerky—fast. Because my body wasn’t going to last without hers—in fact, I was sure any minute I would just combust all over the field. They’d dedicate that small patch of grass to my sad, lust-filled body and joke about it for years.
I kicked off a shoe.
It narrowly missed the table.
“No wonder you like kicking balls,” she teased between soul-wrecking kisses. I was torn between wanting to kiss her and wanting to get naked. It was a problem.
“I’m good at . . . kicking,” I said dumbly as my trousers finally made it to the ground.
She laughed. “I like you this way . . .”
“Stupid?” I offered, gathering her up in my arms.
She laughed. “Not stupid, just . . . eager.”
“So. Eager.” I ducked my head, pressing a kiss below her ear, trying to slow my body down even though it was a losing battle. Blood pumped south. All it took was kissing her and my dick was ready to pound nails.
“There’s no cameras or anything in here, right? Filming us?” She looked around the darkness.
Risky Play Page 17