Page 68 of Wicked

He chose to stay. To accept my messed-up past. Hurt Ryker, and I will fight to my last breath the wicked coming my way.

This is my promise to the man of my choosing.

24

Ryker

The gym is a commotion of loud voices and bodies in every shape and size. The players are either in the food line with their girls and the kids they brought with them, or they’re hanging with the coaching staff at the bar. The older players, anyway.

Coach gave the bartenders strict orders to check IDs. He also threatened the players with a benching if anyone is caught with a fake. There’s a reason for his tough stance. His daughter was killed by a drunk driver my sophomore year.

Speak of the devil, I return my attention to his booming voice.

“I’m proud of you, Ryker. What you did will make a difference in those kids’ lives. They’ll remember this day for a long time.”

It’s not my high chance of getting picked in the draft that makes my role model for patience and tough love proud. It’s the act of bringing a group of awestruck kids with me to the dinner and auction.

Shit, my bank account will remember this day too. Between paying for the girls’ dresses, the boys’ suits, and fancy shoes for the lot of them, not to mention renting a limo for the night . . . But seeing their bugged-out eyes and hearing their screams of excitement? Yeah, okay, priceless.

“They’re good kids, sir.”

“I’m betting they are. Now go get in line with your woman. Tell anyone who gives you grief they have me to answer to.” He smacks my shoulder.

I nod and hurry over to Harper and the kids. No one gives me the stink eye when I slide my hulking body behind Harper’s.

“Hey, remind me to introduce you and the kids to Coach before we leave, okay? I should’ve done so sooner, but—”

“We took up all your time and attention.”

The kids tugged us from one auction item to another.

“I understand, Ryker. No need to feel bad.”

I blow out a breath, relieved. My big paws wrap around her from behind. My chin on her dainty shoulder, we shuffle our way in line until the food line forks. I go right. She hangs a left.

We check each other out over the bowls and platters of food. Harper is smoking hot in a long, flowing black dress with these thin straps and the sides cut low, showing too much tit.

It’s a good thing they’re small. Any bigger and they’d spill out the sides. And those damn covers she put on her nipples—petals, as I’ve been schooled by her—won’t save her from the guys’ rampant, horny imagination.

She sees where I’m looking. Her skin flushes pink, drawing my eyes to how clear hers are. Her freckles are also damn sexy. I reach across the table and brush my finger over the constellation. Stroke the ones on the corners of her mouth too.

“Hey, stop mauling her already, and get on with it, Conway. We’re hungry.”

Deep chuckles from both sides of the line. Smiling big, I drop my hand from her face and fill my plate. There’ll be time left tonight to get in another taste of Harper.

“You and Harper, huh?”

Sultry. Seductive. I crane my neck to my left. Ample chest, the tops of her breasts ready to topple over her tight-as-fuck dress. Hair the color of honey. Green eyes. She saunters over. I lean back and check out the frontal view. Yeah, her dress is tight. Her tits are huge. And she has legs that go on and on. I return to piling food on my plate.

“Don’t ignore me, Ryker. I asked you a damn question.”

“Pretty to look at but shit for class when you show your claws, Missy.”

“We know you’re only with her for a bet. I take it you haven’t nailed her yet; otherwise, you’d be bailing and hopping intomybed.”

Across from us, Harper is hurrying the kids through the line. Her mouth is set in a thin line, and the hand not holding her plate is balled against her side. She looks up. The steel in her eyes . . . Oh, shit, if there weren’t kids around, she’d lay down the smackdown and it’ll be Missy on the ground.

“Harper knows. We don’t keep anything from each other. She and I are solid.”

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