Page 30 of Trusting You
I’m proud of that crib. Proud that I chose it, that Lily must like it because she’s not complaining upon being laid in it, and I also made sure the mattress cover was super soft. Nothing but the softest touch could caress my girl.
I’m so focused on Lily that I almost miss Carter raising a hand as she pushes off the crib and wipes it against her cheek. A single tear has escaped, despite the sweet melody and holding Lily close, knowing she doesn’t have to go anywhere anytime soon.
I wonder what Carter’s thinking—if it’s about Lily or her friend, or leaving the familiar behind to stay here, maybe even a boyfriend. But Carter sees me in the doorway and then smiles as if there were never a visible tear.
I hesitate in smiling back. Whatever could make her go from so sad to so deceivingly happy, had to be too much for a girl like this to bear.
“She’s out,” Carter whispers to me as she draws close. I step back, and she softly shuts the door.
“Then I guess it’s just the two of us.”
I say it hoping to elicit a smile. Not the fake one she just deployed, but her real one, the unwittingly bright one that hits me like a football every time I see it.
She gives none. “Do you mind if I rest, too? I know I’m supposed to be in there with Lily, but if I could just lie on your couch…”
“Take my bedroom.” I add, “Sheets are clean, I promise.”
There. The barest flicker of a genuine smile. “Thanks.”
“You must feel like it’s been a day and a half. Go sleep for a while.”
She turns as she’s heading to my room. “Wake me when Lily’s up?”
“Sure,” I say.
As soon as Carter is out of view, I make like a tree and timber onto my couch, arms splayed out, legs spread, and look to the ceiling. Fucking exhausted.
Here’s the problem: I remember Paige Tobias.
While reputation precedes me, especially during college and at the top of my game—both with women and as running back—my mother raised me to respect women. I mainly apply that respect to physical appreciation, but it’s a rarity for me to look at a girl and not remember sleeping with her. I know who I fuck. My dick commands my brain for the most part, but there still has to be an attraction, a willingness to strip naked and pleasure a woman.
And I recall the night Paige stepped into my world with uncomfortable clarity. It was a house party, right after we became the National champs, so yup, I was finally drinking again after being sober the entire season, and hammered out of my mind. She came into the room with Carter beside her, and the reason they were so memorable was their utter awkwardness in a relatively raucous room. Beats, bass, hollers, drinks spilling, girls’ shoes randomly ditched, and a group of us guys, “cheers-ing” with the women draped over us.
Those two stood out like it was the first party they’d ever come to.
Asher, one of my main buddies, spotted them the moment I did. Covered in tats and with a toothpaste smile, he said to me, “Freshies?”
“Nah,” I said while a girl kissed me and gnawed at my ear. “Look at those legs. Those aren’t baby deer over there. They’re at least gazelles.”
Asher could always be relied upon to laugh at my quips. “Hunting season already, bro?”
I lingered on Paige, curly blonde ringlets half clipped back from her face, giant green eyes, a splattering of freckles on the top part of her chest, then returned to the girl next to me, giving her a nip on her nose, much to her delight.
“Too innocent for me,” I said to Asher. “I like my girls…” Another nip and this one giggled. “Up for anything.”
But my attention strayed back to the two of them, this time moving to the one beside her, to those dark, sexy waves of hair hitting her elbows, those oval gold eyes, more feline than human. Now she was more what I’d like to prowl, rather than the all-American girl beside her.
She caught me staring, gold shields wavering ever so slightly before she spoke to her friend and they skittered away.
“Your heart beating a little fast, bud?” Ben came up behind us, draping his arms around both my and Asher’s shoulders.
“If I were you,” he said to the lady beside me, “I’d be insulted.”
She—Laura—smacked Ben’s arm in an oh you gesture, huddling closer to my abs.
Fast losing interest in her, Ben said, “Easton’s bailed, as usual. We should play some beer pong.”
“Why?” Asher asked. He pointed with his chin. “This room alone has whatever you need to pass the time.”