Page 18 of Maverick (Playing For Keeps #2)

REESE

It had been a 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 being mine again, 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’t help 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.”

“You don’t have to indulge him.”

Quinton waited patiently while I toweled off enough to where I didn’t leave a trail of water through the house. “I don’t mind. He’s cute—woah, don’t give me that look! I happen to have eyes for another Taylor in the family.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I hadn’t even realized my facial expression had changed.

And since when did I get jealous over where Quinton focused his attention?

I didn’t get that way when he looked at Maverick.

Instead of addressing it like I should have, I squeezed the water from my trunks and tossed my towel on the back of a chair to dry. “Give me ten minutes? ”

“Sure thing.”

Unsure of where Quinton was taking me, I played it safe and dressed in the nicest T-shirt and the least-distressed pair of black jeans I could find. After making sure my hair was semi-acceptable, I followed the sound of Beckham’s excited voice down the stairs.

I found the two of them in the living room, bent over Beckham’s phone where Quinton addressed different steps of his game-winning play last week.

The moment I entered the room, however, Quinton’s was no longer focused on the screen.

Those deep brown eyes raked over me, and I barely resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutinizing gaze.

“Am I dressed okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Are you two going to tell me what this is all about?” Beckham asked.

“Absolutely not,” I said, guiding Quinton toward the front door. I jolted when his hand found the small of my back, but recovered enough to yell at Beck over my shoulder. “Don’t wait up!”

I followed Quinton to his car which was thankfully already air conditioned. “Where’s Maverick?” I asked as Quinton backed out of my driveway.

“He’s meeting a friend tonight.”

Uh-oh . “Stetson?”

“You know him too?”

“Well… he knows me . Needless to say he’s not my biggest fan.”

“There’s always room to fix that.” Quinton stretched his arm across to my seat, laying his large hand over my thigh.

The act took whatever smart-mouthed retort I could make and tossed it right out the window.

“You did it with Maverick, and it’s just like I told him: If Stetson loves him, he’ll see that you make his best friend happy—how long were you in that pool? ”

“A few hours…” I admitted sheepishly. “Why? ”

“With no break? I can feel the heat through your jeans. Did you at least put on sunscreen?”

I let my silence—and the heat rushing to my cheeks—speak for me. “You’re such a Daddy,” I murmured.

“And you’re lucky you’re not my boy or you’d be bent over my knee right now.” And now my entire face was on fire . “I’ll be sure to let Maverick know that you like that idea.”

“Are we done torturing me?”

Quinton only laughed and stroked my inner thigh with his thumb. “Is this okay?” he asked. “Me touching you?”

“Fine,” I uttered in some weak sound that could only be described as a squeak.

Quinton drove into downtown Auburn, traversing the streets until he came to a stop outside some hole in the wall Tex-Mex place.

“Have you ever been here before?” he asked as we strode up to the door, which he opened for me.

Flustered, I stumbled in ahead of him. When he took my hand in his, my knees damn near buckled.

“Uh… no.”

Quinton chuckled, a low hum that came from deep in his chest. He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, Reese.” People stared as we walked to our table, but it wasn’t at our entwined hands—it was at Quinton . He was getting recognized, and it wouldn’t take people long to figure me out as well.

That didn’t seem to faze him much though.

He led me right to a table in the back and motioned for me to sit down first. He slid into the seat in front of me and someone appeared at our table, greeting him by name .

Quinton ordered water, so I did the same, only for him to jump in before the server could walk away.

“He’ll also have a strong margarita, frozen with extra salt on the rim, please.

” Once we were alone again, he said, “Just because I’m not drinking doesn’t mean that you can’t. ”

“How did you know my order ?

He offered nothing more than a one-shouldered shrug. “I’m observant.”

There went that fluttering again, so violent that I rubbed my stomach beneath the table.

With my other hand, I drew absentminded shapes on the colorful plastic tablecloth.

Spanish music played from somewhere, audible but still low enough that it didn’t drown out conversation.

Another server with a sizzling tray of fajitas bustled past me, making my mouth water.

My stomach rumbled then, reminding me of the last time I’d eaten… which I couldn’t remember.

“Do you know what you might want?” Quinton asked once our drinks arrived.

Still reeling from the tender care that he’d shown me, I couldn’t even think that far ahead. “Surprise me,” I responded without even picking up my menu. “I’ll eat just about anything.”

I couldn’t focus on a single word that Quinton was saying.

I was too mesmerized by his dazzling smile and his charming personal—damn it, it was working on me too.

Feeling heat rush to my face, I stared into my margarita, focused on mixing it up.

I offered a polite smile to the server when she threw one my way, but couldn’t seem to find a single word until she walked away.

“Are you ready to tell me what this is all about?” I asked Quinton.

“What do you mean?”

“Showing up at my house… kidnapping me?—”

“I hardly drug you out of there.”

Ignoring him, I gestured around me. “All of this—are you playing footsie with me?”

Quinton broke into laughter. The deep, booming sound warmed me from the inside out. His foot teased up my calf, and I wriggled in my seat. “Alright, you caught me. I may have had ulterior motives in getting you alone tonight.”

“Which are…”

“I wanted to check in with you after last week. I know we all talked as a group, but I feel like it’s important for everyone’s feelings to be heard.”

“Have you ever done this before?” I asked. “The whole… poly thing?”

Quinton dropped his voice down. “In a scene setting, yes, but never anything long term but I don’t typically date long term because of our lifestyle.”

“What makes this different?”

His mouth quirked at the corners, and he leaned forward onto the table. “How long ago were you with Maverick?”

“Point taken. He’s a hard man to forget.” I took a deep breath before I formed my next thought. Given my sudden crush on the man, I feared that I wouldn’t get the response I wanted. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do this with me. You heard Maverick before.”

“Does that mean you wouldn’t be interested?” He asked, cocking a brow and teasing his leg even higher.

God, is it getting hot in here ? “I didn’t say that.”

“We can take it slow.” He placed his hand on the table, palm up—an open invitation, one I gratefully accepted.

Those butterflies in my stomach fluttered away but this time, I welcomed them.

“As slow as you need to. And if all of this—” He waved around the restaurant.

“Makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do it every time.

But I do think that we should check in occasionally, just to make sure we’re all on the same page. ”

“I’m okay with that.”

As the night wore on, I realized: I’d never actually been on a date before.

No one had ever reached for my hand in public, or opened a door for me or hell, even ordered me a drink.

Was that what I’d been missing out on all those years?

I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to call out for the server when my water was empty, because Quinton had already done it.

For so long, my life was nothing more than football.

Home, training, games—rinse and repeat. Yeah, I’d hook up with someone every now and then, but I’d never stopped to simply enjoy… existing with another person.

I should have done it with Maverick.

Dinner wrapped up way too quickly and almost as if he could tell that I wasn’t ready to go home, Quinton ordered another margarita for me. He seemed content to sit back and talk while I drank, dragging the evening on as long as possible.

That feeling in my stomach didn’t waver either. My legs stayed entwined with Quinton’s under the table, and his hand in mine whenever we could manage it. A few people approached to greet us but thankfully, no one lingered the moment they realized that we were sharing a private moment.

Quinton drove me home, keeping a possessive hand on my leg the entire way. For once, I wasn’t focused on taking things to the next step. I was content with the night as it was.

“Thank you for this,” I told him as he walked me to the door hand in hand. I swayed, tipsy from the tequila—or him; I couldn’t quite tell anymore, but it felt good . “You could have at least let me pay for something.”

“I won’t hear any of that. All I wanted was for you to have a good night—and to come out of it feeling better about… us.”

“I did.”

Standing there, under my porch light—which I hadn’t turned on… damn it, Beck —I found myself not wanting to let go of Quinton’s hand. But on the same thought, inviting him inside and up to my bedroom felt like it would ruin an extremely intimate night, especially without Maverick there to see it.

Quinton’s finger under my chin pulled me from my thoughts. He tipped my head back, my eyes finding his. The sun had set, leaving the only source of light being the porch lantern above us, and the lightning bugs that twinkled across the lawn. He took a step closer.

Oh, shit .

He leaned in. I licked my lips, heart racing, and I stood on my toes to meet him halfway.

The moment seemed to stretch into hours, time slowing to an almost agonizing pace.

Finally, with Quinton’s hand cupping my jaw, our lips pressed together.

Sparks danced across my skin and tingled all the way to my toes.

He tasted like hot peppers from his dinner, but that wasn’t the thing that had heat sparking in my belly.

Quinton licked across the seam of my mouth once, then pulled back. “Goodnight, Reese.”

“Goodnight,” I echoed, barely audible, watching him the entire walk to his car.

He offered one more smile over his shoulder before he climbed into the driver’s seat, and I stayed frozen to my spot until his taillights disappeared from view.

Only then was I able to move to step into the house and climb the stairs to bed.