Page 130 of The Wrong Quarterback

Parker glanced over at his mom, who was standing beside us, misty-eyed, proud…and the healthiest I’d seen her. She’d madeit her goal to be here for this, working hard every day so she could leave her treatment center and be here for Parker.

He kept hold of my hand as he leaned over to hug her. “I’m so proud of you, son,” she said, her face beaming. “Your dad—he would have been so proud, too.” She was crying then, but unlike in the past…they were happy tears. Which was a huge step up from how it had been since I met her.

Walker and Cole came over, each of them giving him a hug…while Parker still held onto my hand.

“Parkie-Poo, showing us up,” Cole said with a grin, like he hadn’t just won a Grammy two weeks earlier.

“Someone had to make this family legitimate,” Parker smirked.

Walker rolled his eyes. “So cocky already. You’re going to be insufferable, I can tell.”

Parker winked at me. “Looks like Dallas just got an upgrade in the Davis brother department. Hope it’s ready.”

Walker scoffed. “Tell me that when you’ve won a Lombardi Trophy, like I’ve won a Stanley Cup.”

Parker’s smile widened. “Fair.”

He turned back to me. “Shit. This is happening,” he said, sounding nervous as they stepped away.

“I think they’re waiting for you,” I whispered, wide-eyed because everyone was staring at us. Parker may have been used to that—but I still wasn’t.

He kissed my hand. “I love you,” he murmured, before he finally let go and walked toward the stage. I watched him go, feeling like my heart was going to burst because I loved him so fucking much.

Parker stepped up, took the hat from the commissioner, and looked out over the crowd, grinning at Matty and Jace across the room before his eyes found me again. He winked.

He was going to give me a heart attack one of these days.

But what a way to go.

“You are so sexy,” he rasped, pulling at his tie as he backed me into our living room.

“Mmh, right back at you,” I breathed, stumbling on air…because I was very drunk. Parker caught me right before I fell, and I giggled.

“My hero,” I crooned, and he grinned.

“Sometimes.”

“Feel free to be as bad as you want tonight,” I purred, and his eyes widened.

“It sounds almost like you’re offering me a present, baby.” He grabbed me around the waist and hauled me to his chest.

“Yep. Whatever you want.” I smacked a kiss on his lips, tangling my fingers in his hair because I couldn’t help myself. “I need you,” I whispered.

Parker glanced around wildly, his gaze finally setting on something behind me.

I glanced back and saw he was staring at the Steinway in the corner. In celebration of my surgery with the country’s foremost hand surgeon—that he had found and paid for as a surprise—he’d replaced the one he’d already bought me with my dream piano.

The surgery had been a success. I still had tremors occasionally, and I wasn’t going to be playing professionally like I’d once dreamed, but I was able to play whole songs now. Which had greatly improved my mental state.

It was another thing he’d given me that I’d thought I’d lost.

“I want to eat you out on that piano,” he murmured, walking me backward.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a movie with that kind of scene,” I laughed, the sound coming out as more of a moan, because I was already wet thinking about his tongue and all it could do.

“There is. And I’ve been thinking of reenactingthat scenesince the moment I found out you could play.”

Parker lifted me effortlessly, guiding me back until I felt the cool, hard edge of the piano keys underneath me, a cascade of rich, resonant notes echoing through the room. I braced myself, hands gripping his shoulders as he moved between my knees, his eyes locked on mine with that fierce, unwavering intensity that made everything else fall away. The low notes hummed quietly beneath me, each movement a gentle chord.

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