“You didn’t think he’d leave you up here after all that, did you?” Bishop grins, already guiding us toward a nearby stairwell where a security guard is waiting.
My heart races as we’re escorted down to field level. The energy here is completely different, raw, immediate, overwhelming.Players tower over us, sweaty and triumphant. Reporters with microphones and cameras hover at the edges, waiting to pounce. But I barely register any of it because there he is, standing at the center of it all, scanning the crowd until his eyes find mine.
Shepherd’s face breaks into that smile—that one that’s just for me—and he excuses himself from an interview, jogging over to where we stand. He’s still in his uniform, his hair matted from his helmet, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
He doesn’t keep his distance and he doesn’t ask permission this time. The moment he makes it to where I’m standing he picks me up and swings me in his arms and then his lips are on mine soft but urgent. The kiss leaves me breathless, my body molding against his as if we’ve done this a hundred times before. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are shining with a mixture of victory, adrenaline, and something much deeper.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“You said it,” he whispers against my lips, his hands still holding me close. “You actually said it.”
“I did,” I admit, unable to stop smiling. “In front of thousands of people. What have you done to me, Haynes?”
He laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. “Fuck, I love you so damn much.”
“I love you too,” I tell him. “That was quite a show you put on,” I reach up to brush a strand of sweaty hair from his forehead. “You and the entire team. How did you even convince them to do that?”
“Didn’t take much convincing,” he says with a grin. “Turns out they’re all hopeless romantics at heart and they love you almost as much as I do. Plus, I may have promised to cover any fines they get.”
“Speaking of fines,” I glance toward Coach Wilson who’s watching us with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. “Are you in trouble?”
Shepherd laughs. “Oh, hell yeah. I’m in trouble.” He kisses me one more time and then smirks when he says, “But it’s worth every fucking penny.”
30
SHEPHERD
The Alley Tap feels louder than the stadium which shouldn’t be possible, but somehow it is. The bass from “Sweet Caroline” rattles the dusty neon signs on the wall while bodies press against each other like sardines, the smell of beer and sweat hanging in the air. Every surface gleams with condensation. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve got the entire team crammed into those sticky vinyl booths in the back along with my brothers—all six-foot-something of them taking up space with their broad shoulders and booming voices—that makes it seem more crowded than usual. Though come to think of it, I’ve never been in here on an actual game day. Maybe it’s always like this.
Every few seconds someone yells something about the game like we didn’t just live it, but I smile with pride every time. It was a terrific win not just for my team…but for me.
If someone had told me a few months ago that during Monday night’s game, I’d be dancing and singing on the field for the love of my life, I would have laughed in their face and told them to get a life. But then here I am, packed into a bar, watching my girl do her thing with a feeling of immense pride as she helps Cal behind the bar, even on her day off, after givingher the performance of a lifetime in front of thousands of people.
“I love you so fucking much you ridiculous bastard!”
I laugh as I replay the moment in my head. The moment when the woman I’m in love with stood up in a stadium filled with people and told me she loved me too. That will never not be the coolest moment of my entire life.
“Another round!” Killian shouts.
The room cheers and Sutton flips him off knowing how many drinks she’ll be making and delivering around the room. I pass her a look that says I’m willing to help out, but she shoos me away and says she’s got it.
Because of course she does.
My girl is bad ass and I love her so damn much. I can’t help but grin as I watch her move around the bar. The way she navigates the chaos with such ease, like she was born for this, sliding up next to Cal, mixing drinks without even looking, remembering everyone’s orders without writing anything down. It’s a different kind of performance than what I gave her today, but no less impressive. And tonight, instead of tossing out insults about athletes like me and the overpriced uniforms we wear, she’s smiling and laughing and celebrating our wins with every customer she meets.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful and I can’t wait to get her home and?—
“Earth to Shepherd.” Jake waves his hand in front of my face. “You still with us, Romeo?”
“Sorry,” I say, not sorry at all. “Just admiring the view.”
Boone snorts into his beer. “We noticed. You’ve barely blinked for the last five minutes.”
“Can you blame me?” I ask, taking a swig of my beer as Sutton catches my eye and gives me a small, private smile thatsomehow feels more intimate than our kiss on the field. That smile is just for me, even across this packed room.
“No, but it’s getting nauseating,” Killian chimes in, tossing a coaster at me. “We get it. You’re in love. It’s disgusting.”
