The Way We Touch: or Wrangling the Wide Receiver (The Bradford Boys)
The Way We Touch: Chapter 15

The restaurant is packed, and it’s our last night in town. I’ve spent every night with Dylan since our date, and as much of every day as possible with her running the restaurant.

I help out where I can—where it doesn’t require knowledge or experience. Thomas showed me how to hold a knife properly so I could help him slice carrots, onions, and celery, which he calls the mirepoix.

At night, we walk down to the bay holding hands. She tells me her plans for the school year, and her worries about never having taught before and whether the kids will respect her or listen to her.

I do my best to reassure her. She was an incredible dancer, and those kids want to know what she knows, they want to be there. It’s an elective class as well, so I doubt they’ll be disrespectful.

She listens to me with so much sincerity, I feel proud I can reassure her. From what I saw in those videos, she was so fucking good. If any of those kids have done their homework, they’ll be in awe of her.

Then we’d end up sitting, fingers intertwined, her dark head on my shoulder. The small breakers created a soft hush on the sand, and I’d lean closer, nuzzling my face behind her neck, memorizing her fresh, slightly herbal scent as I kissed her warm skin.

She started wearing skirts all the time, and when she’d straddle my lap, I’d trace my fingers under them, squeezing her soft ass before shimmying out of my jeans and sinking deep into her hot, sexy body.

I love her sleeping in my bed with me. We don’t sleep much, to be honest. Having her so close in the night inevitably leads to more, but it isn’t only sex. Holding her, talking to her is our ritual.

I don’t know how I’ll go a single night without her in my arms now, tracing her finger along the line of my hair, looking up at me like I’m a fucking hero.

Glancing at the closet, I remember a time she was telling me I could probably handle a Serrano pepper. Then she started teasing it with her tongue, saying how it wasn’t even that hot, and I had to back her into the supply closet and take her right there against the wall, hard.

Fuck, that was hot.

And I’ve got to shut down those memories before I pop a boner right here in the middle of Cooters & Shooters.

Tonight, I’m hanging back as Dylan skips around the kitchen, taking large platters of pizza out of the ovens.

“Is this Dare dish too lame?” She frowns up at me.

“It smells delicious.” I grab the pizza wheel to help her cut the large pies into small, servable squares.

“No need for gloves with this one, but I double-washed my hands just in case.” She gives me a wink. “Chocolate habaneros are one step down from the ghost pepper.”

“I’ll take a pass.”

“Are you saying you’ll never be a guest on Hot Ones?”

“Is that the show where they interview celebrities while making them eat hot sauce?”

“That’s the one!”

“No, ma’am.”

She breaks into a laugh, but Kimmie pouts as she rests her little chin on the tops of her fingers watching us. “I thought there was going to be chocolate.”

“They’re called chocolate habaneros because they’re brown.” Dylan leans down to kiss the top of her head. “They’re hotter than jalapeños, which means they’re too hot for you.”

The little girl makes a sad noise, and Craig walks over to place a chocolate kiss on the counter in front of her. “Don’t tell your dad.”

Her eyes light, and she scoops up the silver-wrapped candy. “Thanks, Uncle Craig!”

“Good girl,” he teases. “Are we ready? I’ve picked out a special song for tonight.”

“Something less stimulating than last week, I hope.” Dylan looks up at him. “Things got a little out of control.”

In the very best way, I want to add, but I don’t.

“That was your fault pulling out the Carolina Reaper.” Craig bumps her with his hip. “You’re going to like this one. It’s special. Come on, KJ, let’s do this.”

He grabs the little girl’s hand, and Allie breezes in as the two of them head out.

“Sorry I’m late!” She grabs an apron and drops it over her head. Her eyes are shining, and her smile is so big. “You’re not going to believe what Garrett just told me!”

I know what he told her.

“What?” Dylan straightens, brow furrowed.

“Austin is QB-2!” Her voice goes so high, I’m surprised glasses don’t break.

“QB-2!” Dylan meets her pitch, tossing her pizza wheel aside and running to her friend. The two of them jump up and down before falling into a hug and swaying side to side. “I’m so happy for you! My big brothers are the best.”

“Logan is, too!” Allie grabs my arm, pulling me into their hug. “Austin said it was so cool having two real live Pirates at camp this year.”

“He’s a talented kid.” I straighten, patting her arm. “I expect to see him go far.”

“Thank you, Logan.” Warmth is in her eyes as she picks up the platter Dylan has just filled with small pizza squares.

She practically skips out to the dining hall, and Dylan finishes stacking the rest on the second platter.

She straightens, but before she can scoop them up, I scoop her up. Pulling her into my arms, I lean down to steal a kiss. She exhales a little noise as I part her lips, and when I slide my tongue against hers, her muscles relax. She wraps her arms around my neck, and for a moment, we’re lost in bliss.

Then I pull her lips with mine a few quick times before lifting my face and smiling down at her.

She blinks a little breathless, and her smile is the best thing. “What was that for?”

“Just wanted to do it while I still can.”

Her smile melts into a little pout, but her eyes are still shining. “I can live with that.” Rising onto her toes, she kisses me once more before pressing her hands against my arms. “I’ve got to get out there.”

Craig’s voice is already on the mic, and I hear the whistles cutting through the room.

“I’ll help you carry this.” I pick up the heavy platter of pepper-pizza, and she turns, leading me into the big, open space filled with smiling faces.

“The chocolate habanero is about five hundred thousand on the Scoville scale,” Allie explains on the mic. “It’s one step down from the ghost pepper, so proceed with caution. And as always, no water or beer! We have ice cream, milk, and tomato juice up here.”

Craig hits the switch. Orange, yellow, and red lights flash around the room as a fast guitar starts thumping, and Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash launch into the country classic “Jackson.”

A few whoops echo, and people bounce up to the servers for a slice. Craig and the girls on the bar are wearing cowboy hats and boots, and while the dancing isn’t as wild this week, people are clapping in time, and the atmosphere is still pretty joyous.

Dylan steps back, and I put my hands on her waist, holding her back to my chest. She’s smiling, watching the scene, and I get why Garrett wants her to go to cooking school. It’s clear how much she loves making these dishes and watching the response from the crowd.

“You didn’t start without me?” Garrett strides in from the kitchen, and he hops up on the end of the bar, dancing with one of the female servers.

He’s not wearing a cowboy hat, but no one cares. Dylan shakes her head, and when her gaze returns to the pizza line, I feel her body stiffen suddenly, almost like she’s been shocked.

I’m instantly on alert, looking around for what could’ve upset her. Leaning down, I’m about to ask, when a tallish guy with medium blond hair walks up to where we’re standing.

His hands are on his hips, and he’s wearing a pink golf shirt and khaki pants. A visor is on his head and a pair of sunglasses sit on the band. His entitled sneer reminds me of my father’s asshole friends who think the world belongs to them simply because they have a lot of money.

“What’s this all about?” He jerks his chin at me, and I’m ready to punch him in the face. “You’re dating a football player now, and you expect me to believe he had nothing to do with your decision to end it?”

Dylan steps out of my arms as if she’ll confront him. “You mean my decision not to date a cheater who acts like he’s too good for me all the time?”

The guy sniffs at her, sticking a hand at me. “Davis Kent. I take it you’re Logan Murphy?”

I don’t shake his hand. “You must be the golfer. I was wondering when you’d show up here.”

“I’m going to give you a little advice, friend.” He leans in as if he’s sharing a secret. “She’s really pretty, and you probably think all this pepper crap is quirky. Let me tell you, it gets old fast.”

“Tell you what,” I smile, straightening to my full height, which is about three inches taller than him. “I’m not your friend, and if I wanted your advice, I’d ask for it.”

He holds up both hands, leaning away. “Just a tip from a guy who’s been there.”

Dylan’s eyes are throwing fire, but I’m not letting this douche think he’s got something on her.

“I don’t like you, Kent, and I don’t take tips from a guy who doesn’t know a good thing when he has it.” I reach out and grip his shoulder hard enough for him to feel my strength. “That’s from a guy who isn’t going anywhere. Now have some pizza or get the fuck out of here.”

His eyes narrow, and he glances at Dylan. I take a step between them, blocking his view. “The pizza is this way. Or I can show you to the door.”

“I know where the door is.” He turns and stalks out of the restaurant.

Watching him walk away, I’m still a little amped, and I’m not sure that asshole has gotten the message. Dylan grabs my arm, pulling me around to face her.

“That was really great.” She’s smiling, and she hops onto her toes to throw her arms around my neck. “Kiss me, big guy.”

“That’s Lightning to you.” I lean down to wrap my arms around her, lifting her off her feet.

Her legs go around my waist, and when we kiss, cat-calls and whistles break out across the room. It breaks our kiss when we both smile, and she leans her face against mine before hopping out of my arms and onto the bar.

I stand back and watch, and tonight, her eyes are on me as she dances to “Hot Stuff” by Donna Summer. It’s the same song that played the first time I was here, but tonight everything is different. Tonight, she’s mine.

I watch her shake that ass, looking over her shoulder at me, and damn, I realize I’ve found something I like better than football.

She’s in my arms when Garrett knocks on the door before dawn, letting me know it’s time for us to hit the road. He wants to be through Huntsville by lunchtime. It’s a six-hour drive, but it’s only the start of our trek with a grueling preseason waiting on the other end.

And no Dylan.

Her cheek is against my chest, and I lift my hand to slide a lock of soft hair off her cheek. Her eyes are closed, but her full lips press into a pout. We’ve only just fallen asleep after losing ourselves in each other’s arms more than once.

“No,” she whispers. “It’s too soon.”

My chest squeezes, and I lift her gently, rolling her onto her back and moving my body over hers. My hands are on her shoulders, and I hold her like she’s something precious I’ve only just discovered, like lost treasure or a rare pearl from the sea.

She puts her hands on my shoulders, frowning as she blinks her eyes open. “I don’t want you to go.”

Her words send an ache through my stomach, and I lower my face to kiss her. Our lips slide together, and I move mine to her cheek.

“I’m going to be pretty slammed for the next two weeks, then the season will start. If you want to come see me, I’ll schedule the plane.”

She threads her fingers in the side of my hair. “I have to run the restaurant, and school’s starting.”

Nodding, I look down at her small body in my arms. Dipping my head, I kiss her neck, the hollow at the center of her throat.

She sighs, “But I’ll do my best to replace a weekend soon.”

Another tap on the door twists the ache in my chest, and I don’t want to let her go. Leaning down, I kiss her again, this time slower, doing my best to memorize every sensation, every scent. Lavender and vanilla, warmth and sweetness, whiskey eyes and honey kisses.

I had no idea when I got into that truck with Garrett in New York all those weeks ago, my life would change. Now I’m headed back, and I’m trying to remember why. Outside the game and the team, everything I want is right here.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll call you from the road.”

She told her brother goodbye last night when we loaded up the truck. We knew it was going to be like this, but it doesn’t make it easier.

I step out of the bed, grabbing my jeans and pulling them over my hips. It’s followed by my shirt, and I lean down for one more kiss before I go. She sits up, and the blankets fall to her waist, giving me one last look at her beautiful body.

Wrapping her in my arms, I kiss her shoulder, sliding my hands along the soft skin of her back. “Don’t melt anything while I’m gone.”

“I only do that for you.” Her face is against my shoulder, and her voice is pouty.

It makes me chuckle. “Yeah, you do.”

I hug her one more time, holding her a little longer. The words are right on the tip of my tongue, but it’s too soon to say them. I’ll hold that thought in my heart a little longer.

One more kiss, and it’s time to get the show on the road. Garrett and I have a mission, and the MVP is in our sights.