Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Hazel
When I get home from the inn, I’m frazzled and more than a little tired. I’m half ready to melt into a tub when I notice something on the bed. I’m surprised when I find a new dress laid out on the quilt and a pair of my old black cowboy boots sitting on the floor just beneath it. I’m half worried he found something else to burn when I see a small handwritten note.
Get dressed and come meet me downstairs. Taking you out tonight.
-R
I lift the dress up to get a better look at it, and it’s a black dress with a tea-length tule underskirt, a corset top with ribbing, and two thin straps. It’s pretty and way sexier than anything I’ve worn lately. I’m gonna have to dig deep in my makeup drawer to see if I even have red lipstick that could live up to it. I shift on my feet, wiggling my ankle back and forth and biting my lip. I am tired, but it’s been forever since I’ve gone out in something fancy, and the idea of being out on the arm of my famous football-playing, kidnap-plot-busting hero of a husband doesn’t exactly sound terrible. We could at least set a few gossips on fire tonight. I grin to myself as I play with the lace edge of the corset and then hurry to get ready.
When I’m done, I stand in the mirror, doing one last check to make sure my curls are sufficiently undone and messy and my lipstick is staying firmly within the bounds of the liner I put on. I don’t look half-bad when I clean up out of my admittedly dowdy innkeeper outfits and the torn jeans and tanks I usually wear taking care of the horses. I spritz my apple perfume on my wrists and rub a bit behind my ears before I hurry down the stairs to meet Ramsey.
But if I don’t look half-bad, he looks positively heart-stopping. He’s in all black, from his boots and pants to his button-down shirt and cowboy hat. His sleeves are rolled and all of it highlights the tattoos and the tan he’s been developing since he got here. The muted tones of his outfit make his green-gold eyes that much more brilliant in comparison.
I might have to rethink how much I hate him.
“You look gorgeous.” He flashes a panty-melting grin at me as I make my way down the final steps. I try to remind myself I’ve been married to this man for years, and I don’t have to be nervous just because we’re going out on a date.
“Thank you. You clean up well.” I raise a brow and make a point of running my eyes over him. His grin widens in response, and my heart skips a beat.
“I’m glad you think so.” He kisses the side of my neck and pauses. “And fuck do I love that perfume.”
“I know.” I can’t help the bashful grin that comes, and I catch myself nibbling my lower lip. He kisses his way down my neck and buries his nose against me as his arms go around my waist, a low growl rumbling from his chest.
“Fuck. Okay. We’re getting out of this house first.” He tears himself away and holds out his hand for mine.
“Do I get to know where we’re going?” I ask as he leads me out back toward the truck.
“Dinner first. Then a surprise.” He winks at me.
“Where’s dinner?” I’m curious if it’s somewhere in town or if we’re traveling for this dinner.
“I was going to take you to Daniel’s, but I found out they closed.” It’s the steakhouse we used to have in town. One we went to for fancy occasions only but I used to love going to growing up. It always meant a big accomplishment or celebration in my family, something that pulled us all together at a table dressed up for the occasion, and made my dad pull out his credit card. I can still feel the red pleather under my legs and smell the warm bread they used to serve at the table with apple butter.
“Yeah, your brothers’ steakhouse ran them out of business a couple of years ago.” I pout because I’d loved that bread and these perfect little twice-baked potatoes they had that I’d been obsessed with since I was a kid.
“So… we’re going to The Avarice, to eat there.” Ramsey introduces the idea reluctantly, knowing what my reaction will be. I might have the Stockton name, but I don’t support their business practices.
I let out a little sound of protest at supporting the town’s enemy.
“But…” Ramsey looks to me to see if I’ll let him finish before I say no. I press my lips together and give him an expectant look. “Only because they promised me they could make the dinner you always used to love. ”
“With the potatoes?”
“With the potatoes and the bread pudding with the brandy sauce and ice cream for dessert.” He gives me a worried look like he’s half afraid I’m going to say no.
“I usually try to stay away from anything Stockton-run. But I’ll make an exception this once.” I grin at him. Inside I still feel a little guilty for being a traitor to the town’s cause, but half of them have looked at me that way anyway just for having fallen in love with the youngest one—as if it was a thing I could ever control.
An hour later, we’re halfway through dinner, and he’s just absently grinning into the distance like he’s daydreaming about something amusing. It makes me smile in return, though I try to suppress it so he doesn’t realize I’m watching him. I missed this version of him so much that it almost hurts the way my heart swells to see it.
“Something amusing?” I ask, twirling my fork through the last of my potatoes.
He focuses back on me, and the grin grows.
“Yeah. Just remembering that first time I took you to Daniel’s. For that dance?”
“Prom. My junior prom. Your senior prom.”
“Yes. Shit. That was prom, wasn’t it? I’d forgotten that part.”
“I didn’t. I felt guilty because half the senior girls were hoping you were going to ask them.”
“I had better plans.” He gives me a mischievous look like he’d had designs on me all along.
“Oh please, you weren’t dying to take out your best friend’s sister. You just felt bad for me after Eric was such a dick. ”
“Eric’s loss, my gain. I’d been waiting for him to fuck up.”
“Secretly in love with me all along?” I tease, knowing full well he wasn’t.
“I don’t know what you’d call it. You were just under my skin. You always had some smart-ass comment. You weren’t scared of me. Didn’t give a shit about impressing me. I was so used to girls running around in low-cut tops and skirts that you in your cut-off, old jeans and dirty, tight white tees did it for me, I guess.” He laughs.
“I didn’t bother. You always treated me like I was just one of the guys. Another brother who just happened to have tits.” I shake my head remembering that I considered it once or twice in front of a mirror and forgot it just as quickly.
“Jesus, Haze.” He nearly sputters his wine onto the table but manages to swallow.
“What? It’s true. It wasn’t worth my time. Not to mention you weren’t about to ruin your Bo bromance for me, and I wasn’t going to suffer that kind of heartache.” I set my fork down and take a sip of my wine instead.
“But you went to prom with me.”
“I did. And then what happened after?” I ask, raising a brow and crossing my arms. “Nothing. That’s what.”
“You know what happened after. I got that scholarship, and I was going to be in college, on the road with games, and you were still going to be in high school.”
“Mm-hmm.” I shake my head, pretending to still be mad about the first time he left me for football. “Always for football.”
“I was always thinking you could do better.” There’s a pained expression on his face as he folds his napkin over.
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
He doesn’t get a chance to answer because the waiter comes to take our food away, disappearing and returning with the coveted cast iron skillet bread pudding a few moments later. I take a bite and let the flavors play over my tongue.
“And?” he asks.
“It’s not quite the same, but it’s not a bad imitation.”
“They’ve got the cook from Daniel’s back there these days,” Ramsey adds, like it might sway my opinion.
“Then maybe the cast iron was seasoned better. They should have stolen those with everything else they’ve taken in this town,” I grumble while I eat another bite. “I should see if Marlowe could make her own version.”
Ramsey shakes his head. “I think you need another whiskey and Coke.”
“Yes, please.” I grin.
He calls the waiter back and orders me another drink.
“Are you trying to get me liquored up?” I tease him as I lean over to feed him a bite of the dessert, and he takes it. My thoughts flash back to the night of the cake tasting, and I think of how much more he deserves.
“Maybe. Is it working?” His lips pull to the side even as he chews his bite.
“Yes.” I take some of the vanilla ice cream, letting it melt away the heat of the last mouthful. “You have a room for us upstairs already?” I hope he does because I’m ready for him to be out of the black Wranglers he has on and on his back so I can ride him.
“No. We’ve got another place to go to after this. I’m not a cheap date, Mrs. Stockton.” He presses a palm to his chest, pretending to be wounded.
“Well, that’s unfortunate.” For both of us—but I am curious about the surprise.
He spends the rest of dessert flirting with me heavily, and on our way to the truck, someone stops him for an autograph for their kid. He takes his time talking to them and thanking them for the kind words they offer up in support of his career and his early parole.
“Well, that was hot,” I say as we climb into the truck. “I think I regret missing that part of the experience.”
“What?” He glances at me as he starts the engine.
“The part where you’re all sexy and famous. Where people fawn all over you and how talented and brave you are. I think I might have just discovered a new turn-on.”
“Whatever helps my cause, I’ll take.” His face turns thoughtful as he looks out at the road, but his smile doesn’t fade. “You think you might be willing to do the jersey thing for me again?”
“I might.” I smile back at him. “You think you might play again? I know Cooper was encouraging you when he was here.”
The smile drops from his face, and I feel sorry I stumbled on the wrong discussion. I thought the idea of playing again might make him happy, and apparently, it’s more of a minefield than I realized.
“I don’t know. I miss it. A lot, if I’m honest with myself. Watching it on the TV isn’t the same. But I don’t know how great my chances would be, and I…” He glances over at me and then back at the road. “I have other priorities that are more important to me right now.”
“Like what?” I play coy as I run my hand over his thigh.
“Like my wife looking gorgeous tonight,” he answers, shifting in his seat as I lean against the center console. He glances down, and his eyes fall to my cleavage.
“So sweet of you to say, Mr. Stockton.” I run my hand along the seam of his jeans, first teasing his balls and then following it up to where I feel him going hard under my hand .
“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” he rasps as my fingers run back down.
“I know you do,” I say softly as his eyes snap in my direction when he sees me lean further, reaching for the buttons on his jeans. I make quick work of them, one after the other all the way down until I’ve only got the cotton of his boxer briefs keeping my palm off his cock.
“Haze…” he hisses when I run my hand over him again.
“I haven’t had you in my mouth yet, and I need it.” I coax the band of his underwear down gently with the tips of my fingers until the head of his cock is free. I see the tension in his forearms, and I follow the sight down to where his hands are white-knuckling the steering wheel.
“Not on the road. I can’t handle it.” He lets out a weighted breath.
“I tried to get you to go to a room.” I tease the pads of my fingers on the underside of the head.
“I’m trying to get you where we’re going in one piece.” He grits his teeth when I wrap my hand around him.
“You could pull over,” I offer, lifting my lashes to watch him contemplate the idea. I can tell he’s fighting with himself, trying to be a gentleman and listening to his better angels, but I’m desperate to push him over the edge. A low rumble of want and frustration comes out of his chest, and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Haze, darlin’… have some mercy on me. I’m begging you,” he pleads, glancing over to shoot me a pained look before his eyes return to the road. It’s enough that it has me letting him go and sitting up straighter.
“You’re serious about this?” I ask, more curious than upset. I want him, but that he’s trying so hard to hold back has me invested in where we’re headed .
“Just for the next hour or so. Then I promise I’ll make up for it by doing unspeakable things to you the rest of the night.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” I flash him a look, smiling at the way relief floods his shoulders. I readjust the fabric on his boxers and pull his shirt down. “Just don’t forget to button back up before we go in.”
“Noted.” He smirks at me.