Going Hard: Boys of Fall (7 page)

“But love isn’t always enough.” He shrugged, realizing he’d just completely contradicted his own argument.

What was the point of trying to change her mind? She had an opinion, and that was her right.

“No, it isn’t. It’s a hell of a lot, though. I’m not saying marriage is inherently bad. It’s not. I want to be married someday.” As if she realized she’d said too much, she straightened and pulled herself up to her full five-foot-nothing height. “Anyway, you didn’t have to shoo him along. I’m not on the prowl every minute of the day.”

“You prefer nighttime, right?”

“Ha ha, funny guy.”

“Funny guy is better than Grandpa. I’ll take it.” He stepped closer to her and gave in to the urge to tilt her face up toward his. Not all the way up to his, because that would require him boosting her up onto his hips.

Which would require him pinning her to the nearest tree to see if she still tasted as sweet and sexy as she had last night.

So…not an option.

He forced himself to drop his hand from her jaw. “Let’s do something tomorrow.”

She blinked up at him and for the first time, he noticed she wasn’t wearing her glasses. He wasn’t the most observant guy in the world, but she’d been wearing them less and less lately.

Oddly, he was pretty sure he preferred her with them on, though she was beautiful either way. She was just more studious Hollie when she could peer at him over the tops of her lenses.

“Something like what, since you outlawed naked sports at the bar? Damn Garth.”

He nearly shushed her until a quick glance verified they were still alone behind the barn. “Shockingly, we can still have a good time without sex.”

She snorted. “You’re telling me, Romeo? I’ve been having a time without sex since forever. Up to interpretation whether or not it’s been good.”

“Hollie.”

“Fine, fine.” She let out a long breath, then cocked her head. “But only if you feed me.”

“Food can be on the menu, yes.”

“Not just food. You need to feed me. With your fingers, while you whisper dirty words in Spanish in my ear.”

Before he allowed himself to entertain that particular fantasy, he gave her a playful shove. “You’ll be lucky if I let you get anchovies on your pizza. Weirdo.”

She laughed and jogged backward around the side of the barn. “You could feed me anchovies.” She waggled her brows. “That’d be a true test of your love.” She stopped, frowned. “Friendship. I meant, friendship. Of course you don’t love me.”

“Friends can love each other,” he murmured, unsure why he didn’t let her change the subject.

Instead, he just had to prolong the uncomfortable. Because he was Rafe Martinez, the living embodiment of everything awkward and displeasurable.

“They sure can. But you don’t. Not after Wade. I know you were just as pissed at me after he left.”

“I wasn’t. You had nothing to do with it. Anyway, it was a million years ago.”

“Time in Quinn moves at its own pace. And if the wound’s deep enough, no amount of years will make it scab over.” She shrugged. “You were right to be angry with me.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I knew he was planning on leaving and I didn’t tell you.”

“He asked you to keep his confidence,” he said after a moment, once her words had sunk in.

“Yes, and that was a large part of why.”

“Hey, Hol, Rafe, you two coming back or what? Wade wants to play his sappy love song for everyone.” Smiling, Colt stepped out beside the barn. “Gotta indulge the music boy, ya know?”

“Sure, oaf.” Hollie turned to slug Colt in the stomach, and he laughed down at her, ruffling her hair.

And just like that, the moment was gone. A second later, so was she, off to rejoin the others.

Rafe scrubbed a hand over the back of his sticky neck. So much for winter. It was damn warm in that patch of sun.

If only he could convince himself that was the only reason he’d been sweating, he’d be golden.

She’d had another reason for not telling him in advance about Wade taking off, even if it wasn’t her secret to tell. He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t matter.

Years had passed. Their lives had changed. But somehow he still cared. Would always care.

She’d been important to him in a way so different from Wade. A close friend, almost family.

So fucking different.

She hadn’t told him Wade was leaving. Not just to keep her brother’s confidence, but for some other reason he might now never know. He could press her on it or he could put it aside. What difference did it make, really? His friendship with Wade had been irrevocably changed.

As for his with her…well, that appeared to be a work in progress, and he’d be damned if he spent any more time looking backward.

He had a not-a-date to plan. Minus anchovies and Spanish dirty talking.

He grinned as he walked toward the voices ringing out at the front of the barn. Well, at least the latter if not the former.

The former might prove interesting indeed.

W
hat the hell
was she thinking saying yes to a date? They were absolutely wrong together. As soon as they were alone, they started sniping at each other. And now he was going to come to her house?

Alone?

She groaned. It was so the worst idea in the history of ever.

She snapped the hangers along the rack in her closet. What the hell was she supposed to wear? Cute dress, jeans and a top? Look like it meant something to her to dress up, or that they were just two sort-of friends hanging out?

Her phone buzzed on her dresser and she backed up to look at it.

R
M
: Slight plan change. Picnic dinner. You game?

S
he replied back
in the affirmative.

Well, that would make things easier. It wasn’t quite bikini season, but hell, it was still seventy degrees out at four o’clock. She usually waited to put on a suit or shorts until it hit the eighties, but in this case, good enough. She opened her drawer and pulled out her red bikini top.

Handy that he liked her small tits, because she was going to make sure they were on display for him. And maybe, just maybe he’d give them another whirl.

Maybe.

If she took another chance on his ineptitude, which actually had seemed like the complete opposite of ineptitude the other night.

She whipped off her T-shirt and tied on the string bikini then swapped out her knock-around shorts for her bikini bottoms and her cutoffs. Luckily she’d done the full shave that morning in the shower.

Not because she was expecting sex. Ha. She had a better chance of being struck by an asteroid while wearing reflective duct tape, but neat grooming was a positive attribute.

Lately she was missing more than a few of those, on account of her extreme sexual-based frustration, so she’d take every one she could get.

She fluffed her hair and slathered her arms and legs in sunblock. Cocoa butter to the rescue for today. She put on her three dainty necklaces that wouldn’t be too hot with the sticky day and called it good.

Maybe she could even convince him to jump in the creek. Or better yet, to shed at least one of his militant layers.

That wouldn’t be such a bad way to spend the day. Blanket, sun, the creek, maybe some music.

She turned and dug out her Bluetooth speaker and extra battery for her phone. Streaming music for the win. Rafe’s mom probably made their dinner, so it would be delicious food at least. One of the perks of having Mrs. Martinez at the helm of most of his meals. Since she sucked at cooking, she didn’t have a problem with that in the least.

Her parents were out of the house for the weekend. Taking a quick trip up to San Antonio for one of the rodeos that her father loved to see. As a kid, that had been fascinating; now all she could think of was how much pain those poor animals were in.

So, definitely no rodeos for her.

But they couldn’t take that much Texas out of her father, and her mother liked to indulge him. And that worked out for Hollie. For once, she got to walk around the house in her underwear if she wanted.

Not that she would, but she could, dammit.

And when she was finally called for her apartment, that was exactly what she was going to do. Every night, all the time naked. Eat pizza naked. Answer the phone naked. It’d be a big old nudist colony up in her apartment.

Nudist colony of one, reporting for duty.

As long as she wasn’t on the bottom floor with a big picture window. That could be bad.

The doorbell rang. Rafe was on time as always. Right now, she had a very studly cowboy-slash-architect to loosen up.

She ran down the stairs and swung open the door. “Hey.”

“Um, hi.” His dark hair was windblown and fell forward. Of course, it could be from the angle of his head. He was totally checking out her boobs, so win there. She couldn’t quite figure out his thoughts, though. The aviator sunglasses were effectively blocking any way to read him.

His jaw was tight, but she knew that could mean good or bad things depending on his mood. Her mood had immediately improved, however, since he was holding an honest-to-God picnic basket with a blanket tucked under his arm.

And said arm was bulging under the tight edge of his polo shirt. Just how did he keep up with workouts when he was working all the damn time? Also, it was kind of disgusting how tan he was all year round. She was still pale as could be from the winter months.

“Need me to take something?”

He shook his head. “I got it.”

It was a little late in the day to work on her tan, but making Rafe crazy sounded like a perfect way to spend a Saturday evening. She hid a smile as he tried to look at anything but her. Now that she knew he was flustered, she didn’t want to lose her edge.

She put her hand on her hip and tapped her purple-polished nail against her abs. She worked hard for them and didn’t have any problem with showing them off. “Suitably picnic-ish?”

He cleared his throat. “You are aware it’s February, right?”

“And you are aware it’s Texas, so that means nothing?” She rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the front of his sage-colored shirt to drag him inside. “Let me grab a bottle of wine.”

“More drinking?”

“I’m talking about wine with a meal, Rafael, not a kegger. Jeez, loosen the panty strings, would you?”

Saying nothing, he followed her into the living room. She crouched before the small wine fridge her dad had built into the bar. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but she and her mother enjoyed a glass here and there.

“White or red?”

“It’s chicken.”

“White it is.” She pulled one of the bigger bottles out and grabbed two purple plastic glasses from the shelf beside it. Silver lettering announced it was “Wine O’clock” on both of them.

She twisted to look up at him. Again, his gaze was definitely on a downward trajectory. No matter how hard she tried, her ass would forever fill up the seat of her jeans. Actually a little overfull, but she made up for it with a little waist to go with the other places she wasn’t so stacked. “You’re leering, Mr. Martinez.”

“Appreciating.”

She stood. “Is that so?”

“You know I do, Hol.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “Actually, not so much.”

“You know you’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful is not the word most use.” She pushed up her glasses on her nose. She’d run out of contacts and forgot to make her usual bi-monthly order.

“Then they’re idiots.” He teased the ends of her hair. “I’m not sold on the blond, but everything else is…” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, you know you’re beautiful.”

She grinned up at him. “Compliments will get you all sorts of goodies, Mr. Martinez.”

His fingers drifted away, skimming her shoulder absently before he curled his fingers into his palm. “I believe I’m the one with the goodies today.”

His voice was going to end her. Honestly. If her nipples would just calm the freak down, she’d be golden. Barely a touch and she was getting all twisted up again.

Rafe had always been her ideal. Well, until recent years when he’d turned mostly serious to so intense he had permanent grooves in his forehead. Beyond the fiasco of their hook up, there were other reasons. Gone were the grins she snuck around corners to catch a glimpse of when she was a teenager. Those smiles only seemed to come out when he finally let down his guard, and that only ever seemed to happen around Wade. Since it was so rare for Rafe to truly relax, once he finally did she’d been starstruck. And eager and waiting for the next time.

That
was the Rafe she’d crushed on with the force of a thousand uteruses.

The man before her wasn’t quite the same. The strong shoulders were, of course, but not from swimming and playing football with the guys. Now they were holding up some serious responsibilities. Ones that had slashed and burned his smiles until they were as rare as tulips in December.

She itched to smooth the worry lines that had replaced the smile lines she’d craved to trace with her tongue.

Maybe, just maybe she could make him forget about work for a little while today.

She waggled the wine and glasses. “Besides these, I also made cookies.”

“Well, that’s a magical confection that I can get behind.”

Could he get behind her instead?

Wow. Yeah, time to shut that down. They weren’t compatible, no matter what her brain kept telling her with him in her general airspace. It was all a lie based on past feelings, that was all.

She could control herself.

Hollie grabbed her bag that she’d already packed up. She slid in the tinfoil-topped plate and dropped it on top of her towel. “Ready?”

“After you.”

The French doors led to her backyard. She used her elbow to open the lever handle and backed her way outside. As she turned, she caught him quickly averting his gaze.

He’d been checking out her ass again.

She hid a smile and sashayed her way across the deck and down the stairs to the hilly patch of grass above the creek. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She just might need a second coating of sunscreen even in the lateness of the day.

Maybe Rafe would want to help her out. She dropped her bag, and rescued the corkscrew from the bottom. When Rafe snapped out the blanket, she settled in the center, with the magnum of white between her legs.

“Do you want me to take care of that?”

She grinned up at him. His face was in shadow thanks to the sun streaming behind his head. She couldn’t quite tell if that was a playful tone or if he was serious.

“I got it.” She tightened her thighs around the bottle and hissed at the chill.

“Hol, just let me.” He knelt in front of her and held on to the neck of the bottle. That damn lock of dark hair fell forward on his forehead again. His long fingers took up real estate on the bottle and slid along the condensation already forming.

She laughed as the cork popped free and his hand glanced off the slippery side to her bare thigh. She drew the cork in front of his nose. “Like?”

“Jesus, Hol.”

She rocked up against the bottle, resisting the urge to shiver. Nothing about this little predicament was smart, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching up to drag his sunglasses off.

His dark eyes were nearly black and his lips were pinched. Little bits of that carefree man kept bleeding through. She leaned into him, her breath stalling when the widest part of the bottle bumped against her pussy.

His lips were right there. He was staring at her mouth. She could feel the want rolling off of him. She might be a few steps away from innocent, but there was no denying he was attracted.

Then why didn’t he lean in just a little bit? His lips were usually so supple and sexy, but right now they were in a grim line.

So goddamn confusing.

He drew his hand back and dropped onto the blanket so there was an entire length of leg between them.

No wonder she’d been so churned up that night they’d spent together. He was right there, right in the moment with her, then he held himself back.

Confusing meet confounded.

Fuck.

Rafe settled the basket between them like a freaking wall. She allowed herself to get distracted by sandwiches and potato salad for a moment. Why not? Nothing else was happening. Besides, Rafe’s mother made the best salads.

It was safer to eat and enjoy the sunshine anyway.

Shoving seduction aside for salad wasn’t exactly on her new-and-improved Hollie list, but it would have to do for now. Rafe obviously had some bug up his butt about the gooey strings of attraction that kept forming whenever they were in the same space.

If he wanted to ignore it, then that’s what she’d do too.

For now.

“No one makes sandwiches like your mom.” She sighed and tucked a mayonnaise-slathered chunk of chicken and celery between her lips.

He tapped his sandwich against hers. “Damn straight.”

They ate in silence, bumping hands and arms as they spread out the food. She drained her glass twice before scraping the bottom of her plate.

Conversation was stilted. She didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. It wasn’t like they’d ever lost touch. They’d lived in the same town except for their respective years at college.

They hadn’t been in the same class, so it simply felt like Rafe had never left. He didn’t wander far. Instead, he’d gotten a degree when many of the other guys had reached out for the dreams of the NFL, or Nashville, or just anywhere but Quinn.

Not Rafe.

He’d quietly finished with college and worked his way up to having his own architectural firm. Quinn was growing, expanding every day. He was a part of that expansion, and he also helped design some of the high-rises in nearby Sweetwater. He’d submersed himself in his plans and his designs, and she had to wonder if they were starting to drown him.

If he was drowning in responsibilities, period.

She shook her head. It really wasn’t her problem that Rafe had forgotten how to have a good time. His sheen of respectability had snuffed out the flashes of recklessness that had occasionally emerged from the sexy, usually too serious boy she remembered. But every now and then, usually when Wade goaded him into mischief, he’d made her think he had a streak of naughty stuffed down deep. That had been a long time ago, and she hadn’t seen that boy in a long time.

Even if he did fill out a pair of cargo shorts a little too well.

No, don’t look at those powerful thighs that should be perfect for optimum thrusting power.

The rhythm of Christina Aguilera’s “Ain’t No Other Man” boomed out of her little speaker. So not helpful. Stupid summer playlist.

Okay, so it wasn’t technically summer, but the day certainly reminded her of the lazy days of her childhood. Colt, Wade, and Rafe playing a pickup game with a few other guys from the team on the huge expanse of lawn next to their farmhouse. This was a shirts-and-skins kind of game day. Her favorite.

Rafe’s golden skin had been distracting as hell.

He’d been leaner back then. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him now, but he’d filled out into a man’s body. Wide shoulders and a tapered waist.