Page 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE-KOA

Pulling into the newly renovated training compound feels surreal.

There's a brand new sign that reads Home of the Carolina Rovers with our mascot, a Great Dane— no pun intended on ol' Coach.

The fields are finished now—real grass, painted lines, goal posts shining under the Carolina sun.

A few of the cabins have been renovated, and the rest are halfway there.

There's even a mini gym set up under a tarp, and someone installed a flagpole. Don’t ask me why.

The charter bus is already parked, which means the rest of the team beat us back by at least a few hours.

Tank texted me like a dozen times last night, but I didn’t answer him.

Not ideal.

The twerp will be foaming at the mouth, wanting to know what happened.

Like I’d really kiss and tell.

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as I pull into the gravel lot.

Beside me, Finley stretches and yawns, looking completely wrecked in the most satisfying way.

My shirt’s still hanging off her frame, no bra, hair all over the place. She looks like a woman who was thoroughly, repeatedly claimed.

And I feel a sharp, primal thrill knowing the whole fucking team is about to know it too.

“You ready for this?” I ask, tossing the SUV into park.

She yawns and stretches, and my heart just about beats itself right out of my chest.

“Not even a little,” she quips, batting her rust-colored lashes at me playfully.

This woman is too damn perfect.

She is my everything.

“Too late to keep it a secret, Red.”

I lean over and kiss her quick.

“Wait for me.”

Then, I open the door and step out, slamming it shut just in time for Tank to appear from behind the nearest cabin, holding a protein shake and looking like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

“Ohhhh shit,” he crows, pointing at the SUV. “He did it! He freaking kidnapped her!”

“Shut up, Tank,” I mumble as I walk around the SUV and open the passenger door for Finley.

“Nope. Not today. Not when you roll in like some slow-mo rom-com hero with her still wearing your shirt and that walk-of-shame glow.”

“Tank!” I growl, and Finley squeaks and ducks down in her seat.

I glare at him. “It’s not a walk of shame.”

Tank sips his shake dramatically. “Nope. Not if you’re proud of it.”

“Is he always like this?” Red asks and I give her neck a squeeze and drop a kiss on her head.

“Unfortunately. But I think it’s cause Mum dropped him on his fat head.”

“Oh! That’s why he looks like that.”

“Hey! My head is not fat. I’m telling Mum,” he grumbles.

But my girl is grinning up at me, and I have my arm around her, and really I don’t give a shit about my idiot brother. Or his threats to tattle to Mum.

Okay, I might be a little afraid of our mother. A lot afraid.

But that’s just because she’s a total badass my Mum. She and Da have this incredible marriage that’s lasted almost forty years so far and they’re still every bit as in love as they were when they first met.

They’ve set a pretty high standard, and it might be why I’ve shied away from anything serious with a romantic partner. Until now.

Because now, with Finley?

I want what they have. I want it all.

“What’s that face for?” she whispers.

“Nothing. Thinking about Mum. I should call her before he does,” I murmur.

Her eyebrows go sky high.

“Wow. It’s nice to see a grown ass man afraid of his mother,” she says and damn it, I kiss her.

I can’t help myself. It’s that mouth of hers.

Saucy, sexy, perfect.

Next, Carolina appears, jogging over from the admin cabin in leggings and a Rovers t-shirt, her expression half-relieved, half-terrified.

“Oh, thank God,” she says, flinging her arms around Finley as she steps away from the SUV.

I drop my arm, so I don’t get caught in their girl hug. Pretty sure it’s the smart thing to do since Coach would likely have my arse if I touched his woman. Even accidentally.

And really, I get it. Because I feel the same about my Red.

“I thought I was going to have to post a missing persons alert.”

Finley groans into her shoulder. “Can we not make this a big thing?”

Carolina pulls back and smirks. “You vanished with the Rovers’ number eight in a luxury SUV and came back looking like you survived a sex hurricane. It’s already a thing, Fin.”

I scrub a hand down my face.

So much for slipping in quietly like a couple of reasonable adults involved in a consensual relationship.

I mean, sure, I want to shout it from the rooftops, but I need to get a better read on Finley before I do that.

Don’t want her running scared. Again .

My heart squeezes, and I look at her, chatting with Carolina. She seems fine.

Thank fuck .

Then I look around, and I growl.

What was supposed to be a low-key re-entry into camp has turned into a goddamn parade.

One by one, more Rovers and staff come sauntering over, like pigeons to dropped chips, craning their necks to see what the fuss is.

Perfect.

Just bloody perfect.

This is it. My personal hell.

All this bloody attention.

Everyone acting like we’re a couple of teenagers who got caught together, staying out too late after prom.

Tank narrating everything like it’s a Netflix special.

And then— because of course —Coach Dane strolls up from the field with his clipboard like he’s about to announce my crimes in front of a jury.

Sunglasses low.

Expression unreadable.

The man's got more gravitas in his pinky than a whole courtroom.

I brace for the lecture.

The chewing out.

The sarcastic commentary.

Even though, technically, Dane was the one who told me to go after her.

It doesn’t matter really, because underneath all of that anxiety?

Yeah. There’s this sick little twinge of satisfaction curling in my gut.

Because they all see her now.

With me.

And whether they approve, disapprove, or start placing bets— I already won.

She’s here.

She stayed.

She’s mine.

Coach eyes me. Then Finley. Then the SUV.

Then me again.

“You good now, Jackson?” he asks, tone neutral.

“Yes, sir.”

He nods. “Glad to hear it. Now get your fucking gear on and BACK TO THE PADDOCK YOU LOT!”

Everyone jumps.

But Coach pauses.

Then he grins.

Just slightly.

And keeps walking.

Which is somehow awesome.

Tank claps me on the back. “Well, looks like you’re a taken man now, Bro. Too bad for groupies, but good on you, yeah?”

I glance at Finley—cheeks red, eyes wide, lips tight like she’s biting back a thousand thoughts.

I walk over and pull her into my side, letting my hand rest on her hip.

She glances up at me, surprised.

I kiss her temple.

Publicly.

Intentionally.

Her breath catches.

Tank lets out a low whistle.

“Well, shit,” he mutters. “Guess I have to call Mum now.”

“Shut it,” I say to him, then to her, “you good?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Are you?”

“Better than good, Red.”

She smiles, and it is stunning.

“I’ll see you after practice. Go do your thing,” she replies.

She’ll be here. Waiting for me. After practice.

YES!

And that’s it.

No take backs.

No hiding.

Just us.

Here.

Together.

And yeah—practice is going to be hell, the teasing will be nonstop, and I’m pretty sure Finley’s about to get a whole lot of attention from the boys she’s been filming for weeks.

But it doesn’t matter because I meant what I said.

She’s mine.

And the whole world is about to find out just how serious I am about keeping this sassy-mouthed redhead.