Page 2 of Man to Man Coverage (Rangers Football: Hard-Hitting #6)

Rex

F ucking Jepson. He’s one of my best friends, but sometimes the shit he pulls stinks a little too badly and lingers a bit too long.

In less than sixty seconds, his shirt is torn and his back is scratched by a stripper’s acrylic nails that had to be filed to vampiric points to make those marks and he’s bitching at his twin who has a red welt on his cheek that will be black by the morning.

The Uber driver stops in front of our hotel, and suddenly I need a breather from these two.

I treasure their friendship, but I’m glad I’m not related.

We get out and I drop back as the two of them enter the lobby, sneaking around to the side of the building before they realize I’m gone.

Broadway Street is two blocks away, and I should have enough time to listen to the next up-and-coming country star sing a couple of songs before curfew.

I pass a brightly lit tourist trap stuffed with souvenirs and knickknacks, bluesy guitar string music playing from the rooftop bar above the store. Climbing the stairs, I’m surprised to see Devlin Frank leaning against the wall, his beautiful eyes locked on the singer with a soulful voice.

We don’t know each other well. He’s one of the best wide receivers in the league, and I’m a third-string running back and special teams kick returner entering his second professional year.

A nobody in Devlin’s otherwise bright and shiny presence.

He locks eyes with me and nods his head, wordlessly inviting me over.

“Hey.”

“You got out of there unscathed?” Devlin arches his brow.

I roll my eyes. “Not exactly.”

“What happened?”

Taking the position next to him with my back against the wall, I mimic his posture by crossing my arms over my chest. “The dancer’s boyfriend is Rick Stewart from the Nashville Notes. He met us in the parking lot. It was over before it started, but it should never have happened in the first place.”

Devlin shakes his head, his eyes going back to the singer. “Jepson better watch his ass. Jaxson too.”

And me, who is guilty by association, but Devlin’s too nice of a guy to say that to my face.

“My, oh, my. A girl could have one hell of a night with you two.” A woman in a bedazzled daisy duke outfit and bright cowboy boots saunters over to us, batting her fake lashes, a fruity drink in her hand. Not exactly sure where her accent is from, but she’s definitely not from here.

Devlin chuckles and casts his eyes to the ground. “The two of us, huh?”

She nods and all but purrs, “I don’t know if I could take both of you at the same time, but I’d be willing to try.”

Going out with Jepson regularly, I’ve heard a plethora of creative and downright nasty things come out of women’s mouths—things I didn’t even know women thought about. Guys like Jepson and, I guess, guys like Devlin, attract women like this. When I’m by myself, nobody talks to me.

“That’s very tempting, but I only have time for two more songs and then I have to get back to my room,” Devlin says.

She looks him up and down and smiles. “I could come with you.”

“I don’t think my roommate would appreciate that.”

She looks at me. “Are you not his roommate?”

Ha, I wish. “No, I’m not.”

She juts her bottom lip and sighs. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be at the bar.”

“Does that happen to you often?” I ask as she walks away.

“Not lately.” Devlin shakes his head nonchalantly. Just like on the football field, he’s completely cool—always where Declan needs him to be, making each reception and every touchdown look effortless.

“Have you done that before?” The words are out before I can stop them.

“Done what?” He arches his brow.

“Uh…” I tilt my head toward the woman.

He chuckles. “What? Shared a woman with a teammate?”

I shrug, feeling stupid for asking. Honestly, I can’t believe he’s even talking to me right now.

Yes, we’re on the same team, but it shocked me that he and Rylie came out with us tonight.

Or that Jepson had the balls to invite them.

Devlin’s two best friends are Declan Scott, star quarterback and heir to the Scott family fortune, which includes the Rocky Mountain Rangers football team, and Arnold “Aggie” Dunham, one of our star offensive linemen.

Even though we are all working toward the same goal of being champions, they feel like the cool kids’ club where I have never belonged. “Or anyone, I guess.”

“Yeah, in high school and college. Mostly college. You?”

Blushing, I duck my head. “A few times in college before I dropped out.”

“You dropped out of college?” Devlin claps his hands as the singer announces he’s taking a break—showing how well he multitasks—and then he pushes off the wall and tilts his head toward the door.

I follow him out and down the stairs with my hands shoved in my pockets. “Yeah. I had to take care of my mom after they diagnosed her with cancer at the end of my sophomore year.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear that,” Devlin wraps one of his big hands on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “I’m almost afraid to ask…”

“She died four years ago,” I answer the question no one ever wants to ask.

“Damn, man. Sorry.”

We walk down Broadway toward the hotel in silence.

“Is that why you came on to the team mid-season last year?”

“Yeah. I’ve tried out for the Rangers three years in a row—since I missed my opportunity to be scouted in college—by attending their training camp.

Last time, I scored well enough to impress the coaches, but unfortunately, Darnell Watkins was a little more impressive.

They picked him up instead of me. When Doherty blew out his knee mid-season, Darnell moved up and I got the call,” I shrug, realizing I’m rambling and need to shut up.

Devlin makes me nervous, and I know it’s nothing he’s doing on purpose.

He’s a good-looking man, probably one of the best in the league—if all the magazines and Instagram trolls are to be believed.

Standing at six-foot-three, he’s a little taller than most wide receivers.

His eyes are this mesmerizing hazel which turns from blue to green to gray to almost yellow depending upon the light, and they pop against his darker skin.

He has soft, kissable lips and the most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen.

People use the term “lights up a room” when they talk about smiles, but his is the only one I’ve ever seen that truly does that.

It also makes my stomach tie up in knots in a way I can’t quite explain.

We walk through the hotel lobby and ride the elevator up together. His room is to the left, while mine is to the right.

“Well, thanks for the talk.” I shove my hands in my pockets and walk toward my room.

“We should hang out sometime, Rex,” Devlin throws out casually. “Sleep tight and see you in the morning.”

“I’d like that,” I keep my tone blasé to match his, but on the inside, I feel like the cool kid just noticed me. “See you in the morning.”