Page 114 of Hard to Score

My body aches and my throwing shoulder needs to be iced again. “Nothing some beer and some of this won’t numb,” I say as I press my lips to hers in a slow, sweet kiss.

I slide my hands down to her ass as my lips find hers again. She smells of soap from my shower and, just when I sink into the kiss with thoughts of a quickie on the counter before everyone gets here, she bats my hands away.

“Uh-uh-uh. You’re the one who invited the guys over to celebrate, therefore none of that until later.” But in complete contradiction to her words, she fists her hand in the front of my shirt and pulls me toward her for another kiss. “You know how madly proud I am of you, right?” Her eyes light up with the smile I barely see because I’m too busy focusing on the emotion swimming there. “If there was ever someone who deserved today, who deserves this, it’s you, Dreadful Drew.”

Her tongue flicks against my lips and it’s a no-brainer to let her take control for a beat. To let everything feel like it’s fucking perfect in my world for the first time in what feels like so fucking long, it’s ridiculous.

“You keep teasing me like that,” I murmur against her lips, “and the only thing I’m going to be setting out on this counter behind me is you.”

She chuckles against my lips and wiggles her body against mine. “Promise?”

“Christ, woman,” I swear as I break from the kiss and step back from her and her glorious distractions. She just stares at me with the cutest pout before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“Greet the guests with that,” she says motioning to my dick straining against my jeans, “and they’re going to think this is a whole different kind of party.”

“Funny.”

“I know.” She winks and then motions to the counter behind me. “Can you grab that bowl over there for me—”

The doorbell rings and we both look at each other and laugh.

“Would you look at that,” she says. “Good thing we held off. You said seven, right?”

The clock reads six. “No doubt one of the assholes was hit too hard in the head today and can’t tell time. I’ll get it.”

“You going to take care of that situation before you get there?” she asks, motioning to my crotch.

“Always the comedian,” I say. She gives me a cheesy grin and wipes her hand on the dish towel as I head toward the door. No need to take care of anything, seeing as one thought of one of my teammates being behind the door has me back to normal.

What an incredible fucking day.

My grin is still wide and my sarcasm loud and clear when I swing open the door and say, “I said six o’clock, you asshole.” But my double take follows right behind it when I catch sight of who is standing there.

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?”

Have they come to congratulate me? They drove all the way over here to let me know they saw the game and they’re proud of me?

But the thought is short-lived when my dad simply glares at me, his jaw clenched, and disbelief raging in his eyes.

“Who was the woman?” he asks as my mom clings to his arm.

“The woman?” And then it dawns on me. The press. The cameras. My kissing Brexton.

“Charley pointed to the TV and said it was Brexton.” He looks at me with a fear I’ve never seen before. A fear that has me wondering what it is he’s so petrified of? Is he worried that maybe I’ve asked questions of the daughter, and maybe even the man, who he’s blamed all of this on? Is he worried this world he painted my family into might be coming undone?

“Why?” I shrug, studying his every feature, not sure if I’m hoping he lets me down so I know I’m right or not.

“A Kincade. Are you crazy?”

“I’m sure her father would say, ‘A Bowman. Are you crazy?’ But he didn’t,” I all but taunt to get a reaction from them.

“Don’t mention that man to us,” my mother says, voice cold, eyes full of fury as she stares at me with astonishment.

All I can do is put my hands in my pockets and chuckle as I stare at the two of them in utter disbelief. If I doubted my father’s story before, the two of them just solidified it for me now.

I don’t know why the thought crosses my mind but it’s there and it won’t go away. They didn’t drive across town to congratulate me on something I’ve busted my ass for. They came to make sure their lies stay intact and honestly, I’m not sure which one I should be more upset about.

“Are we done here?” I ask with a raise of my eyebrows.