“ . . . long night at work. I had to put books in the basement . . . place gives me the creeps. I hate closed off spaces . . . and spiders, as you well know. There’s one living in this room somewhere, by the way. I haven’t found him yet . . .” she yawned again.
“So you told me earlier. I’m here to keep you safe,” I murmured, brushing at the hair on her shoulders. I sighed, feeling oddly content. My fingers twisted some of her hair and pulled it off her neck to see more of her skin. The tattoo I saw was surprising, although I don’t know why. Maybe it was because it didn’t exactly fit with the quiet image she portrayed.
I studied it. Small blue feathery angel wings framed the back of her nape, from where her hairline started to where her neck met her shoulders. Written in delicately scripted letters were the words, She wore her scars like wings.
Tightness gripped my chest.
Protectiveness rushed through me. I tucked her in closer and pressed a kiss to her neck. As long as she was with me, they’d be no more scars.
Max
I EASED OFF THE BIKE seat, football on my mind. Tonight was a home game against number one ranked Louisiana Lafayette. We had to win.
“Nervous?” Tate asked as I came in the house through the back door. He noticed every twitch of my hand and shift in my mood, which is what made us such a good duo on the field.
I nodded. “Stupid, right? I’ve played a hundred times, but—it always gets to me.”
He handed me his Newcastle. “We’re going to win.”
“I like your confidence, man.” I took the bottle. “Here’s to taking down number one.”
They’d beat us last year—mostly because of me. I’d thrown two interceptions during the last quarter and our offense had never recovered.
We wandered around the house to the front porch, and I checked out Sunny’s place. Sure enough, the Land Cruiser wasn’t there, which meant she was still at work. The body shop had ordered a new front end for her and it was taking longer than normal to fix. I couldn’t say that it bothered me. I liked her depending on me.
Tonight, for the first time, Sunny would be at a game, and I had a kick-ass plan ready to get me over the top with the Heisman.
My stomach flopped around, anxiousness rumbling.
She was going to be angry. I could feel it . . . taste it. Hell, it permeated the air around me.
I shook it off.
Focus on you. What you want.
Sometimes you have to play dirty to get what you want.
An hour later I came out of my room dressed in brown slacks, a pale blue button-down, and a navy blazer. My long hair was everywhere. I wouldn’t put it up until the game. It was typical for the players to dress up before and after game, especially since Sports Center was hosting game day.
Tate checked me out with a critical eye, raking his gaze up and down.
“Irresistible enough for you, Mr. Fashion Critic?” I said and held my hands out.
“It’s missing something . . .” He snapped his finger. “I’ve got it. One word: bowtie.”
“Dude. It’s fine,” I called after him as he jogged to his room.
He came back in the kitchen with a myriad of bowties, most in crazy colors and patterns.
I sent him a look. “Seriously?”
He waved that thought away. “I think this one. Very Renaissance man.”
“Do you think she’ll say no tonight?” I asked, looking down at the one he held up for me. Navy with white checks, it was the least offensive one to my more manly tastes. I took it from him.
He grinned. “No clue, man, but you’re crazy if you don’t hit that—”
My hackles rose. “Ease off.”
“Whatever. I could have her if I wanted. Girls can’t resist me when I pour on the bloody accent.”
“Shut up.” I dug my finger into his shoulder and pushed him against the wall. A picture of the team that a groupie had hung when we moved in fell to the floor and shattered.
He pulled away, brows drawn together. “What the fuck-all? It was a joke.”
I ran both hands through my hair. “Sorry. Just don’t talk that way about her.”
“You’ve been off for a while, mate. Since you met Sunny.” He grabbed a broom and dustpan to clean up the mess. “You’re into this girl.”
My lips tightened, and I pivoted and stalked away from him, landing in the hall in front of the mirror. I popped my collar and adjusted the tie. Tate was wrong, and tonight would prove it. The only thing I was into was football.
Sunny
THE DAY OF THE GAME arrived.
I picked up Mimi in the Land Cruiser and then stopped to grab Isabella before we headed to the stadium. Since Isabella’s ticket was for the student section, she went off to hang out there while Mimi and I took primo seats on the first row near the forty-yard line.
Mimi got settled, crossing her jean-clad legs, and fussed with her lipstick. She glowed with excitement. “Did you get your hair done this week?” I asked, noticing she’d covered the gray that she sometimes got in the part of her hair.
She preened. “It’s not every day you get such great seats. Of course I got my hair did.”
I rolled my eyes.