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She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her pleased smile. “FlixNChill is sending over the contracts today. But they want the next book in the series ASAP. I’m on, like, chapter three and it’s already overdue.”

“What’s it about?”

Tempest glanced up at me and turned fifty shades of pink. She huffed out a laugh and tried to look away, but I held her chin so she couldn’t.

“Ooh. Something really dirty, then.” Why were the sweet, innocent ones always the ones with the best imaginations? And by best I meant utterly kinky and wicked. “I love it. Tell me, Ms. Milan.”

“I’m gonna make you sign an NDA first.”

“All your secrets are safe with me, sweetheart.” That may have sounded flirty, but I meant it sincerely.

She took a big breath and narrowed her eyes on me. “Do not read anything into this, Kingman.”

“Who, me? I’m just a big dumb jock who doesn’t read. So tell me.” We both knew that wasn’t even close to the truth. Although, I hadn’t read a romance novel before, I was about to start.

Tempest looked up at the ceiling, finding it utterly fascinating. “It’s a retelling of Twelfth Night .”

She still wasn’t looking at me. “And?”

One long exhale and a thousand darts of her gaze anywhere but at me, and she finally said, “With football players. ”

Oh ho-ho. “The play where not a single one of them actually takes the time to get to know each other so there’s no way it was actually love, they’re all just horny and should have just had one big orgy? That Twelfth Night , but with football players, oh, and there’s twins too?”

She swatted my arm, but her laugh was warm. “Yes, that Twelfth Night . Why in the world is the only man I’ve ever had feelings for the one football player on the planet who actually knows anything about Shakespeare?”

My heart literally skipped a beat. Hell to the fuck yeah. She’d just said she had feelings for me. Out loud. I wasn’t going to push on it though. I knew to take the win for what it was. For now.

“We should celebrate.” I sat up, pulling her into my lap. “Let’s do something fun tonight.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “But FlixNChill and my agent have been taking me to all these fancy restaurants, and you know what I really want?”

“Please say ordering in and a whole box of condoms to practice that putting it on with your mouth trick.” Sounded like the perfect night to me.

“Good try.” She smirked at me. “I want regular food. Burgers, or tacos. Let’s see if these Californians can complete with our Mountain Mex.”

“How about taco flavored condoms?”

We, in fact, got tacos that night instead of flavored condoms. Sadly, but also not, because it turned out Abuela had lived in LA as a young mother and knew exactly where to send us for really fucking good Mexican food.

We ate a metric fuckton of every flavor taco we could at three different hole-in-the-wall places and one food truck.

“You two crazy kids want to go out on the town with me?” Gryff asked, then downed the remainder of his four hundredth birria taco.

There was something off about him tonight. “You good, bro?”

There was a pause before Gryff answered. “Nothing a night out won’t fix. Just need to find someone to either be a rebound or break my heart again.”

I didn’t need twin telepathy for this one. This wasn’t just shit talking. Something, or someone, had happened, and it had hurt my tough-guy with a mushy-gushy cinnamon roll of a heart brother. I’d kill ‘em.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked carefully.

“Nope.” The forced cheer in his voice was painful to hear. “Just want to shake my groove thang and make bad decisions.”

“Fair enough.” I knew better than to push. But I made a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Gryff had always been the more romantic of the two of us, falling faster and harder. Whoever this was had done a number on him.

Gryff nodded and then turned to Tempest. “Isn’t clubbing a thing that young, beautiful, people do in LA? You up for some dancing till dawn, doll?”

“Sure. But maybe not until dawn. My bookish introverted heart really wants to be in bed by nine.”

I liked the idea of in bed by nine, because I had other ideas of what to do that would keep her up all night.

“Come on, let’s go shake that fine ass your mama gave you.” He jumped up on the picnic table bench and spun in a circle.

Tempest laughed at Gryff’s taunt. “Fine. But you leave my mother out of this. She would definitely not approve.”

“Good.” I tossed our trash into the bin next to the food truck. “All the more reason to go. I’d like to show off my girlfriend tonight.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah. My very sexy girlfriend.”

A couple hours later we were showered, changed and in a town car on our way to some exclusive club my older brother’s fiancé got us on the list for.

Being the future first-round draft picks and the younger brothers of the Bowl winning Mustangs’ quarterback, not to mention future brothers-in-law with the one and only Kelsey Best opened doors in a celebrity obsessed town like LA.

“Come on in, Kingmans.” The manager greeted us like old friends, though we’d never met. “We’ve got a bottle-service booth ready for you.”

Tempest squeezed my hand as we were led through the crush of beautiful people to a private booth.

“Is this normal?” she whispered.

“For LA? I think so.” I kept her close, enjoying the envious glances she was receiving.

Gryff hit the floor right away and had men and women hitting on him in no time.

I led Tempest out to dance and pulled her tight against me.

She licked her lips and gave me the cutest little eyebrow waggle.

Then proceeded to blow my mind with her dirty dancing skills, her curves moving in ways that made my mouth go dry and my dick eternally hard .

“You’re staring again,” she practically shouted against my ear over the ridiculously loud music.

“Can’t help it.” My hands slid to her hips, drawing her closer, pressing my lips to her ear. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? How every guy in this place is wishing they were me right now?”

She laughed, but I could see she didn’t quite believe me. “Other way around.”

“Trust me.” I pressed a kiss to her neck. “I’m the lucky one here.”

As I held her on that crowded dance floor, the bass thumping through us like a second heartbeat, I could see our future spreading out before us, game days and book launches, quiet nights and celebrations like this one. Successes and struggles, navigated together.

I wanted it all.

We hit three more clubs, danced our asses off, and when dawn broke, Gryff said he’d had enough of our disgustingly cute lovey-dovey-ness and went back to the hotel. Tempest and I found some hole-in-the-wall diner for breakfast.

“I’m never dancing all night ever again,” Tempest groaned stretching her legs out, hiding her face in her hands as we waited for our breakfast order.

“That’s what they all say.” I slid her foot into my lap, popped off her shoe and rubbed it. “Here. This might help.”

She leaned back and groaned, then reached for her water. “I can’t believe your brother got us to close down the club. ”

I shook my head. “He’s an all-in or nothing guy, and last night, he was definitely all-in.”

“Must run in the family.” Her smile was soft, knowing.

The waitress set down a carafe of coffee and a pitcher of water without being asked. Bless her.

I poured us each a cup, and caught sight of something on the screen of the restaurant’s TV. The sound was muted, but the headline was clear. “MIRANDA MILAN’S BEST-SELLING SERIES COMING TO FLIXNCHILL.”

“Tempest,” I said quietly, nodding toward the screen.

She turned, her cup freezing halfway to her mouth.

The screen showed a glamorous shot of what must have been her book cover, then cut to some entertainment reporter. “...mysterious author may finally be unveiled as production begins.”

Tempest’s coffee cup shattered on the floor.