Homecoming King

by Jami Albright

  A list of his bad qualities runs through my head, to make sure I don’t confuse the man in my dreams with the real-life man.

  He’s bossy … The better to take charge in bed.

  He’s manipulative … I bet he could bend me into some interesting positions.

  He’s mean … I wonder if he bites.

  Stop, Tiger!

  I turn the knob all the way to cold and stand there as long as I can, then flip the shower off. I step out of the stall and grab my towel. Once I’m dry, I wrap the terry cloth around my body, as a flash of the dream smacks me in the face.

  Cash comes up behind me while I’m naked and wraps his big arms around me. I rest against his chest with my head on his shoulder, skin to skin, naked body to naked body. His big fingers massage and toy with the tips of my breasts until I’m whimpering and helpless against the lust roiling through me. “I love the way you feel against me.” The low rumble of his voice vibrates deep in my core.

  Oh, my Lord. I shake myself from the fantasy. My hands go to the sides of the sink in an effort to stabilize my shaky legs.

  Stop. It. Tiger.

  He’s not interested in me, and even if he was, I’m not interested in him. It’s clear that the only thing that matters to Cash King is his career, and I will not get involved with another man who is so single-minded in his focus that he loses sight of me.

  I deserve more.

  I gather up my shower supplies and put them back in the bin. I forgot to bring clothes to change into, but there isn’t anyone around, and the workers won’t be here for another ninety minutes. So I tighten the towel, open the door, and walk straight into a wall of muscle. “Oof.”

  “Tiger?”

  “Cash?” I stumble back a few steps. “Why are you here? And why are you in your boxer briefs?” Did I conjure him with my thoughts of naughty bathroom sex?

  He seems as surprised as I am. “I … um … Are you naked under that towel?”

  “Yes! I just got out of the shower! Why are you here?” I don’t know why I’m yelling. But the shock is like a steroid shot to my vocal chords.

  His face loses that stunned look, and he rakes his gaze from my toes to my head, lingering on the spot where the towel connects. “Well, Kitty Cat, I own this house. Why are you naked in my bathroom?”

  “I … The shower in the pool house doesn’t have any water pressure. I shower here sometimes.” I wave my other hand in the direction of his crotch. “Do you always walk around in your underwear willy-nilly?” Willy-nilly? What the hell am I talking about? “Do the rest of us a favor and put some clothes on, for heaven’s sake.”

  He chuckles, and it’s like warm honey sliding over my naked skin. “Too late to play the disgusted card, Kitty Cat. I already saw you check me out.”

  “I wasn’t checking out your body, I was checking to make sure you actually had anything in those briefs.” I hold up my little finger and give him a knowing look. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “Aww, Kitty Cat, you kill me.”

  “Stop calling me that.” I try to slide past him in the doorway to escape this awkward situation. I wrongly assume that he’ll step out of the way, but instead he only turns to the side, and I get wedged between him and the doorjamb. A flimsy piece of terry cloth and a scrap of cotton is the only thing separating us.

  Several things become abundantly clear in this moment.

  One, he’s so much taller than me that I feel downright dainty next to him, which is saying something since I’m five foot nine.

  Two, we fit together perfectly.

  And three, the pinkie finger reference to his junk is so off base that it’s laughable. How do I know? Because it’s pressed against my belly and growing larger with each second that passes.

  Way. Off. Base.

  “Um …” My voice has very little substance to it.

  He doesn’t speak, but his expression says he’s as thrown by this turn of events as I am. I’m immediately transported back twelve years to when he held me in his arms on the dance floor in the school gymnasium. We fit together perfectly then too.

  The muscle in his jaw throbs like he’s hanging onto his self-control with both hands. “Yeah. We should …”

  I nod and step to my left while he steps to his right, but the space isn’t big enough for us both to move at the same time and our feet get tangled, and we begin to fall. He grabs me around the waist and picks me up before shuffling his feet to regain his balance—thank you football reflexes. But now we have a bigger problem—my towel’s come loose, and we are skin to skin. My bare breasts are smashed against his glorious chest.

  And suddenly, I understand why sex is such a big deal.

  Eleven

  Cash

  I’m pressed up against Tiger Lyon’s naked body.

  I haven’t been this disoriented since my rookie season, when a defensive end for the Chargers came at me like a tank and rang my bell so hard that I saw stars.

  My response to her is instantaneous. One minute, I’m laughing at her comparing my dick to her pinkie finger, and the next, my body is demonstrating how wrong she is.

  The only sound is the combined rasps of our labored breaths. Seconds tick by, then a minute, then two.

  Oh. My. God.

  “Cash?” Her voice has the substance of smoke, and her eyes are the color of a blue blaze.

  “Yes.” I’m still holding her. She’s still naked. And I’m hard as granite.

  “I’m, um …”

  “Yes?”

  Her pillowy lips disappear between her teeth. “I’m sorry for the gross misrepresentation of your manhood.”

  I laugh like I haven’t laughed in years.

  There’s still apprehension on her face, but she’s grinning, and I know that this isn’t going anywhere. Any minute now, my erection is going to catch up with this conversation.

  “Can you put me down and cover your eyes?”

  It’s the last thing I want to do, but this woman is all kinds of wrong for me. She’s clearly trying to win the award for Ms. Ryder, Texas, and I’m out of here as soon as I get this rec center thing sorted. I reluctantly lower her to the ground and look away. Besides, I caught her with my bad arm, and my shoulder is screaming like a little bitch.

  “You can turn around now.”

  “You sure? I don’t want to get on your bad side.”

  “Too late.”

  I face her, and she’s once again covered by the towel. “About that.” The apology I need to deliver hangs around my neck like a ten-pound weight.

  Slender arms cross over her chest like she’s armoring up for battle. “Yes?”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

  Suck it up and do it, King.

  “About yesterday … I said some pretty terrible things and … well … I apologize.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  And just like that the weight’s gone. I hadn’t realized how much I needed her forgiveness. “Also, I called the guy who runs my foundation for me, and I’m waiting for a response from him. I’m sure I’ll hear something this morning.”

  “You don’t run your own foundation?”

  “No, but that’s not the point.”

  “I think it should be.”

  I rub the back of my neck, which is suddenly prickly with heat. “Okay, let’s go with that’s not really any of your business.”

  Her derisive snort leaves little doubt as to what she thinks of me. “Sounds like it’s not your business either.” She reaches for a plastic shower tote and turns to the door. “I’ve got to go.”

  I follow her out of the house and onto the porch. Why? I have no fuckin’ clue. But for some unknown reason, I want to explain myself to her. “Wait.”

  She turns, and her eyebrows are nearly at her hairline. “What?”

  “I …”

  “What is it, Cash? I’m in a damp towel, and I’m cold, so say what you want to say.”

  My
fingers tunnel through my hair. She needs to know that what I do is a big effin’ deal and that football takes all of my focus. I open my mouth to say so, but that’s not what comes out. “You’re right. I should know what’s going on in my own foundation, and I will find out what happened. I’m sorry. I want to make this right.”

  Why did I say that? First rule of football—don’t leave yourself exposed. Stay in the pocket where you’re safe. As I stand waiting for her response, I’ve never felt more vulnerable.

  Her eyes search my face, but I can’t read her expression. A nod that communicates nothing is all I get, then she’s gone.

  I’m left in my underwear in the chilly morning air. I make my way back to the house, and head to the bathroom. The smell of her is everywhere, and I pull it deep into my lungs. The feel of her slams into me. The memory of all that soft, warm, smooth skin pressed up against me causes my mind to go to very dirty places.

  The alarm on my phone goes off, reminding me it’s time to lace up my sneakers for a run. Thank God. Maybe I can run off this thing with Tiger.

  A guy can hope.

  Twelve

  Tiger

  I dress as quickly as I can. The whole process takes twice as long as it should because my fingers refuse to cooperate. I’m a shaking mess. I have no idea if it’s from the cold, or the fact that my boobs were plastered against Cash’s chest.

  I try to get my pants on, but the leg gets bunched. I stumble, trip, and fall on my bed. “Crap.” The temptation to crawl under the covers is overwhelming. I’m so angry, and I don’t know exactly who I’m mad at the most. Cash, Brad, or myself for being such a fool on many, many fronts.

  My cell rings, and I grab it from the bedside table. “Hello.”

  “What’s shakin’ bacon?”

  Maggie’s over-the-top optimism isn’t what I need right now. Well, I probably do need it, but I don’t want it.

  “Your new lease of life is showing.”

  “I can’t help it. It’s great to be alive.” Her laughter rings through the line, and it makes my heart happy.

  “Okay, you’re allowed to be obnoxiously chipper, but nobody else.”

  “Wow, who peed in your post-toasties?”

  I push myself to a sitting position against the headboard. “How long do you have?”

  “For you? All day.” I hear one of her two kids yell for her in the background. “Hang on. Reese, stop breathing your sister’s air. Hadley, stop looking at your brother. Now y’all get ready for school.”

  I put the phone on speaker and get my jeans turned the right way, then slip them up my legs.

  “Sorry about that,” Maggie says. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I had another run-in with Cash.” I slip my feet into my boots and stand.

  “It’s barely seven in the morning. Did he call last night?” I hear the eyebrow waggle in her voice.

  “No, I saw him.”

  “He came to your house?”

  “No, he stayed at the big house last night, and I saw him when I went to use the shower over there.”

  “Why did he stay at the house?”

  Good question. I hadn’t thought to ask. “I have no idea. Between trying to figure out how to save the rec center, our naked encounter, and figuring out what his angle is, I didn’t ask.”

  “Whoa, sister, back it up.”

  “What?”

  “Your naked encounter?” She whispers the words. The kids must be around. “That statement demands explanation. We’ll get back to why you think he’s working an angle in a minute.”

  “I’d gotten out of the shower and was in my towel when he walked into the bathroom. After a moment of shock and some witty banter on my part, we tried to pass each other, got tripped up, and he had to catch me before we fell. Just my luck that the towel came loose.”

  “So, you were naked?” Again with the whispering.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re the luckiest beech around.”

  I laugh at her use of beech instead of bitch. She never curses, so she’s developed her own set of curse words. “I’m not a lucky beech.”

  “Oh, yes, you are. How was it?”

  “Maggie. All he did was hold me so I didn’t fall. Then I apologized for insulting his manhood, see witty banter above, he put me down with his eyes averted, and that was it. Nothing happened.” Unless you count the fact that I nearly combusted from the feel of his muscles against my skin. Good Lord, but the man is built, even if he is an arrogant asshat.

  “Then you must be dead.”

  I laugh. “I’m not dead. I’m just not interested.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Whatever you say. Now tell me why you think he’s got an angle he’s trying to work.”

  That is the tricky part. “He said he wanted to make things right, and he apologized for what happened with the grant.”

  “That rotten Buster Brown.”

  “Whoa, watch your language, young lady.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re hilarious. I want to know why what he said set you off.”

  “Because I know he doesn’t think I’m smart enough to do my job here at the house, let alone do what’s necessary to save the rec center.”

  “Did he say that? I will cut off his dilly dangles if he said that to you.”

  I laugh, I can’t help it. “Is that a new one?”

  “Yeah. I made it up the other night.”

  “Well, put away your dull kitchen knife, crazy. He said he didn’t have a lot of confidence that I could do the job, but I know it’s because he doubts my intelligence.”

  “It doesn’t help that somewhere deep inside, you doubt your own intellect.”

  “I don’t.” But there’s no real conviction behind it because I’m afraid she might be right.

  “Mm-hmm.” I can tell she doesn’t believe me either. “It seems to me that if he can apologize, then you can accept it. Plus, you might owe him the teeniest apology too.”

  “What?”

  “You did assume the worst of him and rally the town against him.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “I did not. He did that when he refused the grant proposal.”

  “Which isn’t what happened at all.”

  “So?” I don’t like where this is going.

  “So, from his perspective, he’s been attacked too.”

  “I … He … We … Fine.”

  “I’m glad you see it my way.”

  A knock sounds at the door. Thank goodness. I’ve had all the Glenda the Good Witch I can take this morning. “Someone’s at the door. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Oooooh, is it Cash?”

  “I have no idea, Maggie. That’s why I have to go.” But I’m sure it is. It’s too early for the crew to be here.

  “Later, gator.”

  My fingers tremble as I punch the disconnect button. I’m not looking forward to this. I stretch the kink out of my neck. This isn’t going to be fun. I’ve never been good at apologizing. I did tell James that I’d do anything to save the rec center. But I never dreamed I’d have to kiss Cash King’s ass to do it.

  Another knock jars me out of my stupor. I make my way to the door. Hand on the knob, and a deep breath, then I yank the door open with the smile on my face that won me the Miss Texas pageant. In an instant, it drops from my lips like flaking rust from an old pipe.

  “Brad?”

  “Hey, babe.”

  I glance around. For what, I have no idea. I guess I’m hoping for some backup. “What are you doing here?”

  “I missed you.” The crooked grin that’s gotten him what he wants his whole life adorns his handsome face.

  My arms cross over my chest as a shield against whatever bullshit he’s peddling today. For some reason, after months of no contact, he’s been calling and leaving messages for the last week. No idea why, but I’ve ignored them all. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”


  “What am I supposed to do? You haven’t returned my calls.” Now the get out of jail free pout pulls at his lips. “Can I come in?”

  “No.” I step across the threshold toward him, forcing him to take a couple of steps backward. No way is he getting into my safe place. This little pool house has become my sanctuary, and I won’t allow him to taint it with his bullshit. “Tell me what you want and then leave.”

  He burrows his fingers into his perfectly styled blond hair. “Tiger, baby—”

  “Don’t call me that. We’re divorced, and I stopped being your baby when you made it perfectly clear that you were married to me for my status and my family’s money.” The pain of my marriage breaking up is like a splinter stuck under the skin. My body has adapted to it, but it’s still tender. Because while I knew Brad wasn’t my soulmate, I still believed we could build a life together, and I never saw myself as being divorced.

  His hands go into the front pockets of his khakis, and a heavy exhalation deflates his chest. “How many times do I have to say it? You misunderstood me. I didn’t mean what you thought I meant. But you took me by surprise when you gave all of your trust fund to charity.” He hangs his head. “You never even talked to me about it.”

  “It was mine to do with what I wanted.”

  He shakes his head like he still can’t believe what I did. “But I was your husband.”

  I take a half step away from him. “I didn’t discuss it with you for the same reason I didn’t tell my parents. I knew you’d all try to talk me out of it.”

  “And shouldn’t that’ve been a red flag? I mean, hell, Tiger, when the three people who love you the most think something is a bad idea, you should probably listen to them.”

  I shove down a disbelieving snort. The three people who loved me the most, my ass. “I’m not rehashing this with you. It’s over and done. Our marriage is over and done.” I did love him once, but not anymore. He’d snuffed out any affection I had for him when he told me he had no use for me if I planned to “let myself go” and didn’t have my trust fund to bring to the bargain.