Chapter 17
“Ow!” Andrew whines as I pull him into the tunnel out of the bright stadium lights. “Fuck me, ye got a lethal grip. Remind me tae have ye show me yer arm regimen at the gym next week.”
“Andrew!” I snap. “You need to cool your tits, all right. What were you going to do there? Get in a fight with Booker?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “I wasnae going tae fight him. I just have tae alpha dog him a bit.”
“What are you going on about?”
“It’s simple. He’s been a beta with ye yer entire lives. He wants ye, but he’s too bloody soft tae dae anything aboot it. He needs something tae catapult him tae alpha dog status. Trust me, I ken how tae get a lad tae pee on yer leg.”
I close my eyes and exhale heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This cannot turn into a fist fight. These are good people. They don’t deserve this kind of drama or the silly games I’m playing.” My voice cracks at the end and tears fill my eyes. “I’m fucking spent over all of this.”
Andrew’s brown eyes morph from charged to soft as he steps closer to me, rubbing his hands up and down my arms in slow, soothing strokes.
“Poppet, stop feeling so guilty. Ye told me this wis all Belle’s idea tae begin with.
I’m sorry I went a little over the top. I guess I’m still a bit cross over what ye told me he did with that vile Sidney cunt by yer old fort. ”
I groan. “But you were right. I can’t hold a grudge against him for something he did seven years ago!”
His face turns grave. “No, but ye can stop acting like the second choice lass because yer no. I’m no kidding.
Yer no just beautiful. Yer special. Yer interesting.
Ye inspire loyalty. And ye have killer glutes.
” He winks. “Sidney is all surface. Her arse is probably artificially plumped. Booker doesnae want her.”
“He brought her!” I exclaim, thrusting my hand toward the pitch.
“That doesnae mean anything. Look, ye brought me and I’m certain yer no trying to shag me tonight.” He looks off to the side, but I can’t bring myself to turn toward what he’s watching. The happy family of Harrises taking photos together is simply too much. This entire night is too much.
With a sneaky sort of smile, Andrew leans into me and whispers, “Dae ye trust me?”
“What?” I ask as his hands slide up to my face. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me and, for the love of God, dinnae fight me on this or those Harris Brothers will put my baws in a blender,” he murmurs and then presses his mouth against mine.
I gasp in surprise, but my body relaxes when he begins reassuringly stroking my cheeks while he kisses me.
Quite honestly, it feels nice. Affection.
Warmth. It makes me feel wanted again after a week of insecurely trying to get Booker to want me.
Andrew doesn’t open his mouth to ravage me.
He simply turns his head and moves his lips against mine like a sweet embrace.
“If you two can manage to peel yourselves off of each other”—Booker’s voice rips us apart, and I cover my mouth as if that will hide the evidence of what just happened—“they’re loading up for the limo ride.”
He’s standing five feet from us, his face looking equal parts infuriated, hurt, and tired. His dark eyes are a storm of pain as he shoots daggers at my kissing partner.
“Erm…right,” I stammer, moving Andrew’s hands off my cheeks and nervously fidgeting with my dress. “We’re ready.”
“Poppy,” Booker says my name with a sigh. “I need a word first.”
Andrew barely hides his victorious smile as he says, “Maybe I’ll nip off and keep Sidney company.” He leans in to whisper in my ear, “Yer a first choice keeper, Poppet. Never forget that.” With a parting wink, he walks past Booker, who stares him down the entire way.
Turning back to me, Booker’s brows lift. “Glad to see you and Andrew are hitting it off.” His tone is sharp as he unbuttons his jacket and steps into the darkness of the tunnel. The stadium lights cast shadows across his face, illuminating his beautiful features in an ominous way.
“Booker—” I start, ready to tell him everything.
“He’s a wanker, Poppy. Anyone can see that.” He slides his hands into his pockets, his eyes fierce on me.
“He’s not a wanker,” I argue, pushing myself off the tunnel wall and clenching my fists at my sides.
He lets out a haughty laugh. “Well he’s not good enough for you, I can tell you that much.”
I flinch. “And do you think you know who is?”
“I don’t know, but certainly not Mr. Fucking Winkie Face Gym Junkie.” He throws a hand in the general direction of the pitch.
“You’re an athlete,” I snap. “What do you have against guys who exercise a lot?”
“Nothing, all right! I just think you can do better. I think you deserve better.”
“Then tell me who I deserve, Booker!” I exclaim, stepping into his space so he has to look down at me, tower over me, feel me beneath him like pesky dirt under his fingernails.
His eyes flick back and forth on mine, heavy with anger and frustration. He leans in, staring at my lips like he wants to kiss me but thinks better of it. “I don’t know, but I can’t watch you with him,” he bites through clenched teeth.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s all wrong for you.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask, pulling my tone back so I don’t sound like I’m begging.
“Because he is! His hands on you don’t make sense.”
“What’s wrong with his hands?” I exclaim.
“The way they touch you is wrong…He doesn’t handle you with…”
“Yes?”
“He doesn’t touch you in the way that…”
“What the fuck is it, Booker?” I nearly sob.
“They’re not my hands!” he roars, his loud voice echoing through the tunnel. “It makes me crazy to see another man’s hands on you because they aren’t mine and I want them to be!”
Chills. Immediate chills all over my body.
The silence that follows is deafening as my heart sings from hearing the words I’ve wanted to hear since I was eighteen years old.
Maybe even longer. Maybe even my entire bloody life.
The words that he’s been avoiding since the moment he touched me on night one.
His hands.
Keeper’s hands.
There’s nothing more valuable on his body.
But the pain on his face is all wrong. And the feeling in my gut over Sidney being here is still present. “What about your hands on Sidney?” My teeth are clenched. Simply voicing her name makes me nauseous.
“Sidney is nobody to me. She’s just a friend,” he answers, defeated.
“I’m just a friend.”
“You haven’t been a friend since the second you came back, Poppy, and you know it.”
My breath shudders at his admission. He’s said it now. He’s practically laid it all out there, and now I need to do the same. It’s now or never, Poppy. No running away this time. You’re a first choice keeper.
My voice is timid when I utter the words I’ve been needing to say for far too long. “What if I told you I want your hands on me, Booker?”
I lift my gaze to him as a heaviness lifts from my shoulders. As scared as I am to finally put it out there, it feels as if the clouds over my entire life are parting.
He looks down at me, his jaw bone ticking viciously with unexpressed emotion. “You have a funny way of showing it,” his voice cracks.
I exhale. “I’ve been trying to show you for weeks, you daft idiot.” I shove him in the chest and he sways on his feet, looking at me in confusion. “Andrew is only a friend. He’s actually gay and was probably picturing you when he kissed me.”
His eyes turn to angry slits. “Is this a fucking joke to you?”
“No!” I cry, swiping a loose strand of hair out of my eyes. “Far from it. I’ve been tormented all week trying to get you to see that I’m more than just your old mate Poppy and a lot bloody more than a slip.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He spreads his shaking hands out in front of him, gesturing toward me. “You’re a lot fucking more, and that’s why this is so hard. I don’t want to lose you.”
“What does that even mean? Why would you lose me?” I close the space between us, gripping his face tightly in my hands. “Look at me! I’m right bloody here, and I’m telling you I have feelings for you!”
He holds my wrists and closes his eyes, refusing to look at me.
His face looks so hurt and tortured I could cry.
I slide my hands inside his jacket and wrap my arms around the warmth of his waist. I hate that this is so hard for him.
I hate that this is so hard for us. I press my cheek to his hard chest. His pounding heart mirrors my own.
He crushes me against him, his arms a heavy vice around me as I twine my fingers behind his back and squeeze.
It’s not a romantic hug. It’s a hug of desperation.
A nail-scraping grip of what we mean to each other.
Like if we let go too soon, we could lose each other like we did that day on my doorstep six years ago.
“Hey, guys.” Tanner’s voice cuts into our bubble of emotion, and both our heads snap in his direction. “We’re leaving now. Andrew is apparently taking Sidney home. She broke her heel, so they left. Everyone else is in the limo already.”
“We’re coming,” I say, squirming out of Booker’s grasp and wrapping my arms around myself.
“No worries, Poppy,” Tanner says sweetly with a smile meant only for me.
“Finish your talk. Just meet us at the club for dinner in an hour.” Tanner flings a set of keys to Booker.
He catches them swiftly. “Security is shutting everything down, so let yourself out the practice field door.” He flicks his gaze between us and says seriously, “Booker, you’ve got Poppy, right? ”
Booker’s eyes find mine and he nods, a look of determination on his face as he grows taller before me. “I’ve got her.”
“Great, we’ll see you both soon. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He playfully taps the tunnel wall and is off, running toward the exit where a security guard waits.