“I know the difference between a man who’s fucking with me and a man who’s actually fucked me. And your brother did a real good job.”
I’d fucked her, all right. And it was goddamn spectacular. I could still feel the tight squeeze of her around me. Just thinking about the past twenty-four hours had me ready to go again. If I only had Charlotte until her car was fixed, I was going to make the most of it. I’d let her eat and get a little work in first, though.
“They taught you all of this in college?” I asked, stopping her in mid-sentence.
“Some of it,” she said with a grin. “Marketing changes so much every year. Every day, even. A lot of it I picked up along the way or learned on the fly.”
“I’m impressed.” I placed my hand on hers.
The urge to sweep my hand across the table—clearing it dramatically of her paperwork—was strong. I’d already had her on the ground under the stars, and in my bed, so adding a table to the list seemed like a mighty fine idea.
“I actually learned a lot from watching my father,” she said.
Well, that abruptly put the brakes on the sexual nature of my thoughts. Nothing like the mention of dear old Dad to kill the mood. I nodded and told my dick to stand down.
“Not that he would ever know,” she added, “or even let me get a word in at his firm.”
“Why wouldn’t he want you to be a part of it? You’re smart, and like I said, you know your shit. Plus, you’re his daughter.”
She frowned. “Dad’s firm is a real boys’ club. I don’t think he even took me seriously when I majored in marketing. I spent a lot of time trying to impress him and gain his approval. I’m done with that, though. He was never going to make room for me at Freemont and Associates.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I told her, feeling overprotective. I knew a little bit about parents disappointing you.
Her dad sounded like a grade-A asshole, which went a long way toward explaining why she was packed up and headed for LA. How on earth her father couldn’t take her seriously was beyond me. I could see the frustration and disappointment in her eyes. Charlotte might have been trying to play it cool, but I could see the wound was still fresh.
“It’s his loss.”
“And your gain, Mr. Wilder,” she said playfully.
“Is it ever.” I rose up enough in my seat to lean over the table and plant my lips on hers. “You taste like maple syrup.”
When I flicked my tongue across her lips, she lifted her eyebrows. “You wanna take that bottle up to your room and have a little fun?”
“That sounds like a real good idea. But didn’t you say something about needing to check in with Wayne?”
“Oh, yeah.” She deflated a little, looking disappointed. “I totally forgot about my car.”
I wished I’d forgotten.
She picked up her phone from the table as I sat back down. After a quick swipe of her finger and a couple of taps, she put it up to her ear.
“Hello, this is Charlotte Freemont. I was calling to touch base with Wayne about my car.” There was a pause as she listened. “So, he’s out for the day?” She nodded a couple of times. “All right then. Thank you.”
“No go?” I said, hoping the answer was just that.
“No go. Apparently, there’s some kind of game tonight, and he’s taken the day off to prepare.”
Of course. Tonight was the first game of the high school football season.
“Yeah, the Stallions kick off tonight at seven. Wayne’s kid is a senior this year. I’m sure he’s on the starting roster.”
She scratched her head and wrinkled her nose. She had no idea what I was talking about.
“Shady Grove High School has their first game tonight,” I explained. “Everyone in town treats it as a holiday. Football is a big deal around here, if you haven’t figured that out yet.”
“I guess so. You taking me to the game tonight?”
“You want to go?”
I was surprised, especially when she hadn’t complained about Wayne’s incompetence or the fact that her car still wasn’t ready. And now she wanted to go to a football game with me? This girl sure knew how to keep me on my toes.
“I think I do.” She nodded. “What time does it start?”
“Seven. That give you enough to primp?” I teased.
“More than enough.”
She slipped from her seat and walked over to me. When she planted her perfect ass on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck, she had my full attention.
“In fact,” she said in a low voice, “that’s more than enough time.”
She ran her mouth up my jawline before taking the lobe of my ear between her lips and sucking gently. I swallowed hard as every drop of my blood rushed south.
“Why don’t you grab that bottle and meet me upstairs, Mr. Wilder.”
The purr of her words had my head spinning, but I wasn’t completely dumbstruck. When she hopped up off my lap and started for the stairs, I grabbed the syrup bottle and followed her.
We had a few hours to kill before kickoff, and enough syrup to make each of them sweeter than the last.
? ? ?
The roar of the crowd was deafening. The Stallions were up by six, but the opposing team had the ball with three minutes to go.
Charlotte turned wide eyes on me. “This is insanity.”
“If they make it to the end zone, it’s going to be even worse,” I warned.
The Stallions were heavy favorites this year, and losing their first game would have been a huge upset. The crowd was screaming out their defensive chants, reminding the players on the field of the pressure that was on them.
That was one thing I didn’t miss about playing football—the constant pressure to win.
Somewhere between playing in high school and when I played in college, the fun went out of the game for me. I wasn’t sad at all for my football career to be over, and neither was my body, which had been battered and bruised through my entire adolescence. Not that I could ever share that with anyone in my hometown. That was akin to blasphemy in a football town. You either played football, or wanted to be playing.
“I want one of those giant pretzels,” Charlotte said. “I’m going to go now while everyone is watching this. There’s no line.”
I had to laugh at her indifference to the game. There we were in the middle of a nail-biter, and she wanted a pretzel.
“I’ll go with you,” I said, taking her hand in mine.
“You sure? Don’t you want to see what happens?”
“I’m good,” I told her as we stood up and headed down the bleachers. “I’ve seen enough football games to last me a lifetime.”
As we walked down the metal steps, she wrapped her free hand around my arm and pressed herself against my side.
“Is this how high school was for you?” she asked. “Friday-night lights and all that?”
“Yeah. Duke and I played. We even went to college on scholarship.”
“That’s awesome.”
“It was all right.” I shrugged. “Paid for college.”
“You miss it? All the hype? The attention?”
“Not really.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I half expected lightning to strike me where I stood.