Going Cowboy Crazy (30 page)

Slate wished he was taking it as well. He was pissed, and when the whistle blew at the end of the half, he was already on his way to the locker room. He didn’t even wait until every boy had stepped through the door before he started in.

“What the hell is going on out there?” He threw down his clipboard, and it slid across the cement floor and hit the lockers. Every sweat-matted head turned and stared at him as if he’d gone off the deep end.

“We spend a good week going over the fundamentals, and my offensive line folds like a piece of tissue paper?” He shoved a finger at them. “That’s bullshit and you know it! I don’t care who I put in as quarterback—it could be your worst damned enemy—it’s still your job to protect them! Do you understand me?”

There were a few “yes sirs,” but for the most part there was nothing but shocked silence. Even the coaches wouldn’t look at him. The only person who would was Austin. With his head completely drenched in sweat, he grinned like a Cheshire cat. Surprisingly, this didn’t annoy Slate as much as he thought it would. He only lifted an eyebrow at the kid before he moved on.

“All right. Now let’s talk about the defense getting some coverage on their wide-out.”

The second half looked like a completely different team. The defense recovered two interceptions and kept the Rattlers from scoring again, while the offensive line protected their quarterback long enough for him to throw four touchdown passes and run in for the fifth.

It was a great 13-to-35 win.

“I told you,” Austin crowed in the locker room as he strutted to the showers, his long lanky body covered by nothing but a towel.

“So you did.” Slate stood in the doorway of his office in his jeans and western shirt, having already changed out of his team polo. “Think we can do it again next week?”

“Of course.”

“You want to tell me why you didn’t get on your offensive line?”

He shrugged. “It’s all part of initiating the new kid—you should know that. They wouldn’t respect me if I
couldn’t take a hit and recover from it. But I have to tell you, I was glad you stepped in. That last sack hurt like hell.” He looked down at the black cowboy hat in Slate’s hand. “I forgot to give you back your hat the other day.”

“Yeah, you did.” Slate leaned a shoulder on the doorjamb.

“I’ll bring it on Monday.”

Slate twirled the hat around. “Nope.”

“Aww, don’t tell me we have to practice on Sunday again?”

“Nope.”

Austin looked confused.

“The hat’s yours. You earned it.”

Austin looked surprised before he recovered. “Gee, thanks, Coach. Just what I always wanted—a hick hat.” He rolled his eyes as he walked away.

Slate laughed and flopped his own hick hat on his head as he returned to his office to look over some game film with the coaches while the boys finished showering.

Twenty minutes later, a herd of excited boys was showered and dressed, but seemed in no hurry to head out the door. They clustered around outside his office until Slate finally stepped around his desk to see what the problem was.

Of course, it was Austin who spoke first. “We’ve been thinking, Coach.”

He tried to keep the smile off his face. “That’s good. I like a team that can think.”

Austin smirked. “Well, that’s good because we decided we don’t like the weekend curfew.”

Slate rested a shoulder on the doorjamb and pushed back his hat. “Really?”

Billy Ray cleared his throat but refused to look at him. “It just doesn’t seem right, Coach, that we don’t get to go out and celebrate after the game. I mean, if we win, that is. I guess if we lose, we probably should go home. But if we win, I think we should get to stay out longer.”

“And what’s the deal with not getting to have a girlfriend during the season?” Joey yelled from the back. “You’ve got a girlfriend, Coach.”

He couldn’t argue the fact. He did have a girlfriend, one he wanted to see before the night was over.

“Shut up, Joe,” Austin said. “We’ll talk about girlfriends another time. Right now we’re discussing curfew.”

Slate had to give it to the kid; he knew how to take the bull by the horns. “So how late are we talking about?”

“Three!” someone yelled out.

Slate lifted an eyebrow.

“Two!” someone else yelled, and Slate’s other brow followed the first.

“How about twelve?” he offered.

“Twelve-thirty,” Austin countered.

Slate bit back his grin and nodded. “Fair enough. But only on Friday and Saturday night and only if your parents agree to it. School nights, eight o’clock is still the curfew.”

A wild cheer rose up, followed with a stampede for the door.

“You think that’s a good idea, Slate?” Travis asked as they followed the boys out. “That curfew’s been in place for a good fifty years.”

“Maybe that’s fifty years too long, Trav.” He tugged down his hat, turned out the lights, and locked the door behind him.

His team didn’t waste any time. The parking lot was almost empty when he and his coaches got to it. He firmed up some meetings to go over strategies for next week’s game, then said his good-byes before heading around the side of the building to where he had parked Bubba’s truck.

He’d brought the truck in hopes that once the game was over, he could convince Faith to go out with him to Sutter Springs. Unfortunately, now all his players would be out there. Besides, Faith had probably left with Shirlene to celebrate with everyone else in town at Bootlegger’s. The thought didn’t make him happy. He didn’t feel much like spending the rest of the night with a bunch of wedding-crazed fools. For the last week, he couldn’t set foot in town without being asked about cake flavors or fonts for invitations.

But if that’s where Faith was, he was willing to endure it.

He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and scrolled through the numbers, looking for Shirlene’s. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t see the woman who stepped out from around the corner of the locker room until she spoke.

“I hope you realize I’m practically frozen.”

His phone clattered to the asphalt. All the emotions of the last week swelled up inside of him, and he couldn’t form one coherent thought. All he could do was stare and absorb every precious square inch from the top of her windblown short hair to the toes of her sexy little red boots.

She stepped closer, and the sweet scent of shampoo and peaches filled his lungs. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring it.

“Thankfully, Jenna found this in the closet—” Faith flapped the sleeve of the jacket at him. It fell well past her fingertips. “Or I really would’ve frozen to death.” She glanced down at all the patches on the sleeves. “From the looks of things, you were quite a stud. All-state. All-district. Two state championships—”

He wasn’t sure what happened. One second he was standing in front of her and the next he had her in his arms and was kissing her as if his life depended on it.

It felt as if it did.

Faith filled a void inside him. A void he never knew existed until she walked into his life over two weeks ago. And now he couldn’t stand the thought of life without her. It seemed too empty. Too desolate even to contemplate.

As always, she melted against him, the stiff leather-covered sleeves hooking around his neck as he pulled her up to her toes. Need took over finesse as he guided her back against the wall of the locker room, giving her one devouring kiss after the other. He wanted to eat her up until there wasn’t a morsel left. Until he had completely consumed her so he would never be without her again.

“Slate,” Faith mumbled against his lips as his hands slid inside the jacket and covered her breasts. “Slate.” Her hands came up to his chest, but it still took a minute for him to realize she was pushing him away, not pulling him closer.

He pulled back and looked down at her, his breathing ragged.

In the shadows, it was hard to see her expression, but her words sounded amused, not angry.

“People can see us.”

Reality slipped back, and he glanced around, realizing that even though the lighting wasn’t very good under the eaves of the building, they were still in plain sight of the highway.

“Come on.” He tugged her along as he retrieved his cell phone, then pulled his key out and unlocked the door. It was dark inside, but he knew his way well enough not to bump into anything as he took her hand and guided her around benches to his office. Once inside the room, he flipped off his cowboy hat and turned to her.

Reaching out, he pushed the jacket off her shoulders. It dropped to the floor with a muffled thump. He slid his hands down her arms, over the soft knit of her sweater to her hands. She shivered when his fingers closed over hers. She was right when she said she was almost frozen; her hands were like ice. He held them for a few minutes, trying to warm them.

“You’re freezing.”

“I know.” She stepped closer to him. “Got any ideas on how to warm me up?”

“A few.” Slate smiled. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

“Show me.”

He gave her hands one final squeeze before he reached for the bottom edge of her sweater and pulled it up. It got stuck on her head, and she giggled in the folds before he stripped it off. She shivered again, but this time he could feel the goose bumps rise on her chilled flesh.

“Darlin’, I think I’m going to need a little help warming you up.” He rubbed her arms.

“I’m going to tell you right now, Slate Calhoun, that I don’t go for any kinky stuff.”

He smiled as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “Are you sure? Because I know some pretty good kinky stuff.”

“That involves just you and me?”

“Just you and me and a hot shower.” He unsnapped her bra, then filled his hands with her creamy, delicious flesh.

“Here?” Her voice quavered.

“I think you’ll like it a lot better than Bubba’s.” He leaned his head down to take one nipple into his mouth. She gasped and slid her fingers up through his hair, holding him like she didn’t plan on letting him go anytime soon.

“Mmmm,” she hummed. “I might not need a shower to get warm.”

“You might not need it, but I think you’re gonna like it.” He kissed his way to the other breast as he pushed her jeans down to the tops of her thighs.

“I like this.”

“So do I.” He guided her to the edge of the couch and eased her down.

When her butt hit the cold leather, Faith let out a squeal that ended on a moan when he knelt down in front of her and buried his face between her warm thighs. Her muscles tightened around his cheeks as he kissed her through the cotton of her panties.

“Slate,” she breathed.

The sound of his name on her lips made his body tremble, and he breathed in her musky scent before slowly releasing his breath. She wiggled against his lips, and he repeated the inhale and exhale until her panties were warm and damp, and her moans were loud enough to be
heard clear out on the highway. Then using his teeth, he tugged the cotton out of the way so he could reach the quivering flesh beneath.

It didn’t take more than a few strokes of his tongue to send her careening over the edge, but he continued the gentle flicks until her hips settled back into the leather. With one last kiss, he sat back and reached for her boot.

“Wow.” Her voice was thick and seductive. “You are a stud.”

“Of course I am, darlin’.” Slate tugged off the boot, then rolled off her sock before reaching for the other one.

“And extremely arrogant.”

“Extremely.” Taking the hem of each pant leg, he stood and tugged her jeans off. Her bottom came up off the couch, and she laughed when he almost pulled her to the floor along with her pants.

“By the way.” Faith came to her feet and stepped into his arms, five-foot-nothing of sweet, naked sin. “Great game.” She grabbed the edge of his shirt and gave it a yank until all his snaps popped open.

“You liked that, did ya?”

“The game or the snaps?”

He grinned, because as much as he wanted to be deep inside of her, he also loved just standing there holding her and swapping quips.

Slate leaned down and kissed one bare shoulder. “The game. I figured out a long time ago that you liked the snaps. Why do you think I kept wearing these shirts? But I gotta tell you, darlin’, I got a limited supply.”

Her warm lips found the center of his chest, and she licked her way up to the base of his throat, where her sharp little teeth took a nip. “Then I guess we’ll just have
to buy you some more.” She sucked hard enough on his neck to leave a mark, and he pulled away.

“Be careful. The boys will eat me alive if they find a hickey on me.”

“And what about all the hickeys you’ve left on me? I’ve had to wash out my turtleneck for the last three nights.”

“Believe me, in the last few nights, I’ve wanted to do a lot more than just suck your neck.” He bent his head and brushed a few kisses on the spot behind her ear, while his hands skated over her breasts. “And if it hadn’t been for your father peeking out every two seconds, I would have.”