Page 37 of Maverick
“Stop fooling around you two!” I called.
Red-faced and gasping for air, both heads snapped in my direction. “Sorry, cap!”
Under my breath, I added, “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
I couldn’t help the smile that curled my lips as I walked away.
17
REESE
It had beena week since that day in the showers and with the start of the official season around the corner, things couldn’t have been going better. Our luck was turning around. Maverick was more confident on the field, which meant that our stats were higher. We still had a near-even ratio of wins to losses, but it didn’t matter—things were good, and the three of us were spending every waking second together that we could get.
We hadn’t had sex again, but that was fine by me. For the first time in a long time, Maverick wasn’t staring at me with daggers—or tears—in his eyes, and I was going to ride that wave as far as it would take me.
August was winding down, which meant that Beckham was preparing to leave for training. I thought I’d be happy about my house beingmineagain, but seeing all of his stuff packed up was triggering an emotion in me that… I didn’t want to address.
So, I was relaxing in the pool and ignoring the fact that I’d be alone in a few days. My phone chimed with a notification from my doorbell camera but before I could even make a move to check my phone, Beckham shouted loud enough for me to hear him across the house.
“Holy shit! You’re Diesel Webster.”
I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. For another professional athlete, Beckham could be incredibly… Beckham.
Choosing not to move from the pool, I grabbed my drink and took another sip. Fall may have been rapidly approaching, but Alabama hadn’t quite gotten that memo. The late-afternoon sun beat down on my back. I’d probably have a sunburn later, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.
“Dude, you could have warned me that football royalty could casually show up at your door!”
And the moment of missing him was gone. I opened my eyes, seeing Beck step onto the back patio with Quinton in tow. “And why would I do that? So you’d move in?” My attention turned to the man standing behind him… and my smartass attitude faded away to nothing. A gentle smile curled my lips, one that I couldn’t control. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” Quinton responded, indicating the drink in front of me. “Comfy?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Too comfy to let me take you out?”
“Out where?” Feeling a presence nearby, my gaze slid to my nosy cousin. He stood, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, watching the whole interaction. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
With his smarmiest grin, Beck collapsed into the lounger next to him. “Nope.”
Rolling my eyes, I put all my strength behind sending a gush of water in his direction. It didn’t get very far—but enough to wet him from the waist down. “Goodbye, Beck!”
“It was nice to meet you,” Quinton said to a grumbling Beckham as he stomped into the house to change. Then to me, “That wasn’t very kind, was it?”
I arched a brow at him. “Like you’ve never done something like that to one of your siblings.”
“Do as I say, not as I do.” Quinton strode closer, and I couldn’thelp but let my eyes rake up his body. Long, denim-clad legs ate up the distance between us. His dark-wash jeans molded to his every curve like they’d been tailor-made for him. He tucked his hands into his pockets, pulling the material tight across his lap. His crisp white T-shirt didn’t have a crease or wrinkle to be seen, and provided a stunning contrast to his deep, warm skin. “Drinking your fill there?”
“Yes,” I happily admitted. I wasn’t sure how I never noticed how attractive he was before. It was as if seeing him with Maverick had unearthed some deep-seated feeling that had been there all along, but I wasn’t going to fight it. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going? Because if I’m pulling myself from this pool and missing half my margarita, it better be good.”
Quinton smiled, and my stomach did somersaults. “Get out of the pool, Reese. I promise I’ll buy you a margarita that’s ten times better than what you can make in your kitchen.”
“Do I have time to shower?” I asked, hoisting myself up to the edge of the concrete. Quinton offered a hand to help me to my feet, and I tried to ignore those butterflies kicking up in my stomach.
“Sure—I’m sure your…”
“Cousin,” I finished. “Beckham.”
“I’m sure Beckham will keep me entertained.”
