37. Chapter 37
Man nipples and blue balls
“Swain, get over here and meet my family,” Baylor calls, waving me over with one beefy hand. I see him standing with a group of people outside the players’ lounge, but Juliette is like a beacon, drawing me nearer with each glance.
Baylor introduces me to his wife, who is not, in fact, Juliette McNamara. Holly has dark skin, short curly hair, and lively hazel eyes. Then I meet his fathers, Isaac and Emmett.
“It’s a long story,” he says with a chuckle. “I’ll tell you later.”
I nod like I don’t already know the story of why he has two dads, my eyes constantly flitting to Juliette without being obvious. She seems to be doing the same, looking at me and then jerking her eyes away. But when our eyes do meet, I can read the warning in her gaze. Don’t tell.
Isaac Ward, Baylor’s biological dad, has skin about two shades darker than his son, and his brown eyes look out from round, wire-rimmed frames. He looks every bit the wise professor of English Literature he is.
Emmett McNamara, on the other hand, is lighter complected, though he has the tan of a man who works outdoors a lot. His hands are rough when we shake, and I remember that Juliette told me he’s a mechanic.
Both fathers are proudly wearing their Baylor Ward jerseys. The entire family is, in fact. The two youngest siblings, both college-aged, step forward and accept my handshakes.
Xander gushes for a minute about the improvement of the defense as compared to last season, and I like the kid. He’s got dark-brown hair and eyes that are slightly bluer than Juliette’s aqua ones .
Jordan, or Jordie as her family calls her, is almost the exact replica of the woman I’m trying not to gawk at constantly. Though of course Jordie’s only twenty, sixteen years younger than her sister, so she has a bit more of a baby face.
“And this is Juliette, the old lady of the family,” Baylor tells me, hooking an arm around Juliette’s neck and rubbing his knuckles across the top of her head in the age-old display of brotherly assholeness. But I can tell it’s done with the utmost of affection. As is her soft elbow to his gut.
“Get off me, butthead,” she scolds, and my knees almost buckle at the sound of her voice. Dammit to hell, I’ve missed hearing her talk. And smile. And sing stupid karaoke songs. And writhe beneath me while I fuck her into the mattress.
Great. Now I’m popping a boner at the most inopportune fucking time ever.
She’s removed the beanie, and tiny strands of loose, fuzzy hair shine in the overhead light of the hallway as she attempts to smooth it down.
Though I prefer her looking a little messy.
It reminds me of her post-coital appearance, ruffled and flushed after I handled her roughly from behind, one of my hands fisted in those golden locks.
Update: The erection situation has not improved.
Clearing my throat, I hold out a hand and attempt to rein in my rogue body parts. Hell, even my man nipples are hard in Juliette’s presence.
“It’s nice to meet you, Juliette.” I’m impressed that my voice sounds even and smooth when I feel the exact opposite. She’s here. She’s really standing right in front of me. My dream girl come to life.
She reaches out to shake my hand, and as soon as our skin makes contact, I have to brace myself from the jolt I feel.
“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Swain.”
Mr. Swain? Well that’s not fucking helping. My goddamn nipples are so firm they hurt, and my balls are turning bluer by the second.
“Please, call me Reno.” In fact, why don’t you scream it for me, baby. “Did you enjoy the game?”
Juliette’s pretty eyes widen. “It was freaking awesome. I think the Brewers really have a chance this year with you on the team. I mean, you forced four turnovers, and the way you neutralized their forward was textbook.”
Color me impressed. The woman knows her hockey. More importantly, she kept up with my stats during the game. It’s hot.
When I realize I’m still holding her small hand in front of all these people, I ease back, allowing my middle finger to drag suggestively against her palm. The pinkening of her cheeks has my insides doing a happy dance. She’s still affected by me.
“Why don’t we head to the restaurant?” Baylor interrupts. “I could eat an entire cow right now.”
He and Holly kiss their son and hand him off to Isaac before everyone exchanges hugs. They’re a close family, and there’s obviously a lot of love between the siblings and the two fathers.
Emmett slaps my arm with a strong hand. “Reno, you should come to our family’s Labor Day cookout. Bubba can give you the details.” I’ve finally figured out that Baylor’s family refers to him as Bubba, the same Bubba Juliette referred to when we were on the island.
“I don’t want to intrude,” I lie because I want to intrude like a motherfucker if Juliette is going to be there, which I’m assuming she is since Emmett said it was a family cookout.
“Nonsense,” Bubba Baylor says. “Everyone’s welcome. Bring your mom and Gramps too.”
He was with me one day when I stopped by to take Gramps a new book I ordered online, so he got to meet my grandfather. Then Baylor suggested the local library if I wanted to borrow books instead of buying them.
Fuck, if I’d only taken that advice, I most likely would have run into Juliette weeks ago since it’s the only library in town. I’m flabbergasted at my next thought.
She’s been right under my nose almost this entire time.
Rather than the formal atmosphere I expected, the steakhouse is decorated in a rustic theme, so we’re not out of place in our casual clothing. The ladies are still wearing their jerseys and jeans. For the record, I’m not exactly happy to see another man’s number on Juliette’s body, brother or no.
Baylor and I are in our leave the arena uniforms, consisting of a Brewers polo and nicely pressed navy shorts.
We have to wear a suit upon arriving, but after the games, Coach lets us dress down.
I’m a fan of this system because no one wants to put on a stuffy suit after spending a few hours in our heavy gear. Especially not in the Texas heat.
A portly host greets us at the door and finds our reservation before leading us down a side hallway and through a door marked Private.
Baylor and Holly walk in front of us, so I rest my hand on the small of Juliette’s back. I’m pleased when she slightly bows her back for more of my touch.
We’re shown to a quiet table in a private room, which is apparently reserved for celebrities and sports stars.
Matthew McConaughey sits at a corner table with a woman I assume is his wife.
I think I read somewhere he’s from Texas, though I’d forgotten until now.
There’s also an actress from a soap opera, but I can’t remember her name.
A couple of our teammates are here, as well as a famous baseball player from Dallas. I like this setup. It allows privacy for well-known people who just want to have dinner without autograph and photo hounds all over them.
Baylor pulls out Holly’s chair and then starts to round the table to do the same for his sister, but I’ve already got it handled.
He frowns a little but returns to his seat beside his wife.
I sit to Juliette’s right and slyly place my hand on her knee over the denim of her jeans.
She doesn’t protest, though I see her eyebrows pop up once in surprise.
Energy thrums through my body at her proximity as I scan the one-page menu. “Hmmm, how’s the prime rib?” I ask Baylor, rubbing my thumb over Juliette’s denim-clad knee. Does she remember that’s what we both ate at our first dinner together?
She bounces her leg once, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning like a fool. She remembers.
“It’s excellent,” my teammate says.
“Good. I’ll have that.” I swivel my head to Juliette and ask casually, “Do you like meat, Juliette?”
Her face is deliciously comical, but she coughs lightly and nods. “Love it. I think I’ll have the same.”
The waiter comes by and takes our orders, but before he can leave, I stop him. “Make sure to bring horseradish with both of the prime ribs.”
I realize my mistake instantly when Baylor’s brow furrows. “How did you know Jules likes horseradish?” Fuck.
Feigning a touch of confusion, I shrug. “I thought that was how everyone ate prime rib.”
He nods grudgingly until he’s interrupted by a deep voice.
“Well they just let anyone in this joint.” We all look up to see a grinning Axel Broxton standing next to our table with a beautiful redhead.
Ax is a veteran tight end for the Fort Worth Wranglers and is touted by many as the best in the nation.
I have to agree. The man is a beast on the football field.
Baylor laughs and stands, pulling Axel into a back-slapping hug. “You crazy sonofabitch. How are you?”
“Good. Just busy, you know? You remember my wife, Blaire.” He gestures to the redhead.
“Of course,” Baylor replies. “Holly and I have met her. She scoped my shoulder a couple years ago.” He turns to us and explains. “Dr. Broxton is the best orthopedic surgeon in the state. ”
She nods humbly, and Baylor introduces Holly to Axel before gesturing across the table. “And this is my sister, Juliette McNamara.”
Axel’s eyes dart back and forth between the siblings, obviously clocking the lack of resemblance before telling Juliette, “You apparently got all the good looks in the family.”
We all laugh as Baylor rolls his eyes and nods at me. “And have you met Reno Swain?”
“Met him?” Ax asks. “We did a sports drink commercial together a couple years ago.”
I stand and give him one of those handshake-hug combos. “That was a fun one. How are the triplets by the way?” He brought his sons to the shoot, and they were so cute, the director gave them a small part in the commercial.