Page 57 of Broken Play
"Beautiful, like you. I wonder who last used it and what they bought."
His mind always seems to be dissecting, always thinking about every angle. "Yeah, and who forged the coin? Did he ever burn his hands?" His mind is fascinating.
Greyson leans over his horse and pulls my mouth to his. "This M was unexpected. Anything else I should know about your other two Ms?"
"My favorite movie is Top Gun. And my favorite musician is Tylar Sweeney. That can't surprise you."
"No, Tylar Sweeney doesn't surprise me. She's all anyonelistened to for a decade, but Top Gun is old-school. If I had to pick an old-school movie, I would choose Unforgiven."
Now it's my turn to laugh. "Of course, Texans love their Cowboys. The Armadillos are going to show Texas who the top football team is in this state. I'm so sick of seeing Cowboys shit everywhere."
"Whoa. Whoa. That's my favorite team," he says, turning his horse nose to nose with mine. "I had all the greats on my wall."
"Are you saying youstilllove the Cowboys? You're an Armadillo."
"I'm saying the Cowboys were my team until I went to Denver. Plus, they bring attention to the league, but don't worry, I fully intend on making the Austin Armadillos the star of Texas. The Cowboys will be roadkill." He takes a breath. "We better head back. Have you seen Unforgiven?"
"No, but I know it's a cowboy movie."
"Do you have time to watch it?"
I'm kind of hoping we'll get tangled in the sheets, but I answer, "Sure, I'd love to watch a cowboy movie with my Armadillo." He grabs Pinky's rope and turns us. As he does, I see a fast, white flash in the distance. "Did you see that?"
"What?"
"There was a flash over there," I say, pointing in the general direction. Greyson stops our horses and surveys the area, but it's getting darker, and it's that time of night when it's hard to see.
"I don't see anything. Let's get back."
When we get back, he pours us each a generous glass of wine while I plop on the couch, resisting the urge to put my feet on the custom-made coffee table that's one slab of wood with the bark still on the sides.
Heflips through the channels until he finds the movie. It's not exactly oozing romance, but he stretches his arm over my shoulder, and I'm so comfortable snuggled into him. I find myself on pins and needles, wanting to know what's going to happen next. Although it's holding my attention, Greyson's fingers graze my bare arm. My breath hitches, and a shiver traces a path up my spine. Leaning down, he kisses my forehead like we've been doing this for years.
With my body warm from the wine and his heat, I lift my head and start to place small, wet kisses up his neck. I'm tired of pretending that it's the movie and not him making me breathless. The kisses start gently and easily until desire takes over, and I'm straddling him on his couch, dry rubbing.
"Easy. You don't want your star player blowing his load in his jeans."
"I don't know—it could be hot, knowing I could do that to you."
"Baby, with how you feel against me, blowing my load is a foregone conclusion."
When I'm ready to rip our clothes off, his phone rings from the coffee table, and he answers it. I stand up to give him some privacy. Suddenly, Greyson slips his arms around my waist and kisses my ear. "Hey, I need to go to my parents'. Rain check on the movie and the grinding?"
"Of course. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it's Parker. He dropped out of college, and his talk with Dad isn't going well. I feel like since I'm home, I should help."
THIRTY-ONE
GREYSON
"Birdie is taking Parker and his friends backstage tonight. Not exactly punishment for quitting his team." J.D. looks around the stadium. "Can you believe this field will be transformed into a rock concert and then back to our field in less than twenty-four hours?" J.D. asks.
"I'm surprised Dad's letting him. I've never seen him so upset."
"Why? He just threw away thousands of dollars, and Dad tried for two years to get him to play college ball for him, but Parker chose hockey," J.D. says, disappointed. His personality is cut-and-dried. Do A, then do B. You must do A plus B to get to C.
I have a different take on the subject. "Parker doesn't have to follow our path. My history professor, for example, studied journalism but couldn't find a newspaper job. While working in a library, he fell in love with history, went back to school, and eventually became a professor. There are many ways to get from point A to point C, brother."
