Page 31 of Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You
Juan’s here.
Fuck! Here we go.
He fingers fly across the keyboard to text Nick.
Juan’s landed, waiting for customs.
The response is instantaneous.
Where is she?
Before he can reply his phone chirps. “I want her home,” Nick’s voice hisses in his ear. “Now.”
He steps back, never letting his gaze drift from Shae. “They aren’t done yet. I’m going to—”
“I don’t give a fuck. Do whatever the fuck you have to do to get her out of there. I can’t let that bastard get to her.”
As much as he hates to admit it, Nick’s words provoke his fury too. For a woman who doesn’t belong to him and never will. But that doesn’t change the fact he’ll do anything for her. Gina’s right—he needs to think about moving on.
“He won’t. It’ll be at least thirty minutes before he gets out of LAX, and then you know he’s heading straight for you. I don’t want to scare her. Once this wraps up, I’ll get her to the house. Then, I’ll come there.”
“No. You stay with her.”
Closer to Nick than his own sister, he never meant to get so embedded in their lives. Maybe he’s kidding himself about being able to leave. “Damn it, Nick. She’ll be safe at the house. If you think I’m letting you do this without me, you’re fucking crazy.”
Shae catches his eye and frowns as she mouths to him, “Is everything okay?”
He bobs his head and smiles as Nick barks in his ear, “Fine. Just get her—”
“I will.” He shoves his phone into his pocket. Their precise planning cannot be messed up because of this photo shoot.
Shae steps back on set while they pause for the photographer to make adjustments to his camera.
“So, I heard you and your boyfriend went through some pretty fucked up shit last weekend.”
The murmurs of conversation around them drift away from Marcus’ question. Everyone waits to hear her response, find out the juicy details. She raises one eyebrow and nods. “That’s right. So, don’t mess with me, because I don’t take any crap.”
Good for her. She deflects the truth with humor, yet doesn’t let herself sound like a victim.
Marcus’ eyes widen for a second before he roars with laughter. “I’m the toughest motherfucker in the NFL, and you’re threatening me?”
“That’s how I roll.”
Marcus laughs even harder. “Little white girl in a flowered dress, and she says, ‘That’s how I roll.’ That’s bananas!”
Sierra interrupts their conversation, motioning first to the football star and then to Shae. “Okay, last one, guys. Marcus you’re going to hold Shae over your shoulder. We’ll make a handprint on her bottom with icing. Make it look like you’re carrying her off after all she’s done to you.”
Max steps closer. Shae’s nothing, and this guy looks strong, but he refuses to take any chances. Marcus lifts her up and two women focus on their design, dabbing yellow cream on the blue, sequined material.
“I hope I’m not too heavy.” Shae’s muffled voice floats from Marcus’ back, her long hair brushing the floor.
“Nah, shortie. You’re fine. You probably don’t even weigh a buck o’ five.”
The designers pause as her body shakes from laughter. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that expression before, but I like it.”
“You gotta have the lines to get the ladies.”
“Marcus, I doubt you have any problems.”
