Page 30 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)
THIRTY
SUTTON
"You're late. Do you realize I've been hiding behind a bush?" I ask as he climbs out of his big-ass truck and grabs me in his arms, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. It doesn't sizzle with need like most of the other times. Instead, I feel happiness hiding behind his lips.
"I ran into a problem," he says, furrowing his brows. "Are you ready to ride?"
I try to keep my eagerness in check as I soak in the feeling of his arms wrapped around me. "Not even going to feed me first?" I tease.
"If you survive, then I'll feed you." He snorts out a laugh.
"Oh, I'll survive it."
I hope I can't walk, though.
Intertwining his warm and calloused fingers with mine, he drags me to the fence line.
The hot air smacks me just in time to watch him open the gate and whistle.
Two four-legged shadows approach, their tails swishing back and forth.
He grins as he hands me a rope hooked to the horse.
A glimmering smile stretches across his face.
"You thought I was talking about something else, didn't you? "
His laugh is sweet and sinful at the same time.
"You're the one who made it sound like..." My voice trails off. "Do you really think I can ride this horse by myself?" I size up the horse and mentally assess the probability of riding it without falling off.
He brings his horse beside mine, and his hand grazes over my skin. "I have no doubt you can do anything you set your mind to." He cups my face and teases my lips with his. "Would you rather ride together the first time? Pinky is gentle and too old to run if you want to ride alone."
For a moment, I chew on my bottom lip, weighing my decision, but I decide to put my fears aside and try something new. "I'll ride Pinky."
"That's my good girl."
Call me good. Call me bad. Just call me something, my dirty-talking quarterback.
He bends over and gestures for me to put my foot in his hand, and with that, he hurls me onto Pinky's back. "You had this all planned out," I say, realizing the saddles are already on both horses.
"It's one of the reasons I was late getting back to the house." He climbs up on his horse and gives me a few instructions.
"Everything I tell you, I want you to do gently so Pinky stays in a slow walk.
Say 'walk' when you want her to move forward while squeezing your legs against her body.
When you want her to stop, pull the reins a bit—don't tug them—and call, 'Whoa.
' Just keep your weight evenly distributed. Are you good? "
"Yeah, but you really should have told me you were talking about riding horses. I wore silky underwear."
"Really?" he says as he gives me a devilish smile. "Pickles, walk."
Greyson and Pickles lead us into the open field.
The thud of the horses' hooves and the swishing of their tails create a melody of their own.
It's peaceful and stress-relieving. We lead the horses out into the open field, the sky still streaked with the last blush of evening.
In places where the field hasn't been cut, the grass brushes against my tennis shoes, and I grip the rope a little tighter, determined not to look like a total city slicker.
As we walk, he glances over and asks, "So, what do you actually enjoy when you're not conquering the tennis world? "
"The three Ms."
He cocks a brow. "I hope that doesn't mean three men." Greyson laughs as if that would be impossible.
"It could be if that's what I wanted, but I enjoy movies, music, and the last one is a little nerdy."
"Let's hear it. Now wait, let me guess." He takes one hand off the reins and strokes his jaw.
"Macrame? Model making? No, model making isn't nerdy.
When J.D. and I were little, our parents would buy kits for us to assemble and paint.
Sometimes Mom would let us help paint the base coats, and then she would touch them up.
" Lost in his memories, he pauses. "Oh no, don't tell me that you're a moonwalker.
I can't date a moonwalker, even secretly. "
Greyson and J.D. are so much alike, yet Greyson has an easy comfort about him. He jokes and teases and has a soft side. His mom obviously had a profound effect on him.
"You're lucky to have so many good memories with your parents. "
"Compared to Parker, Noelle, and Witt, yes, but I wish my mom were here right now. She loved to ride, and my siblings need her. Okay, tell me the third M."
"Metal detecting. My coaches always laughed at how I loved movies or shows about treasure, so they gave me one for Christmas when I was nineteen, and I've been searching for treasure at nearly every tournament since."
"Interesting. What's the most prized treasure you've found, and where did you find it?"
I give Pinky a command as I pull back on the reins.
"Whoa." To my surprise, she stops after one more step.
Greyson brings Pickles so close to me that our legs are pressed together.
I pull my necklace from under my shirt. Even though the sun is fading behind the landscape, I can still see.
Greyson removes his phone from his pocket, turning on the light and shining it on my pendant.
"Is that Constantine the Great?" He runs his finger over the raised profile and worn edges.
"It is. I found it in Portugal after losing the quarterfinals to Hebert. The coin isn't exactly rare, but it dates to the 300s AD."
"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 anyone listened 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 you still love 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.
He flips 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."