Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)

“They’re going to lose.” Macy’s arm looped through mine.

“Yeah.” The Wildcats were going to lose. Rush was going to lose.

When I looked to the scoreboard, the crack in my heart got a little bit wider.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, sniffling away the sting in my nose.

“I wish I could say it gets easier.” Ryan put his arm around my shoulders, hauling me into his side. “But it doesn’t.”

As much as I wanted to blame the tears in my eyes on hormones, it had nothing to do with being pregnant. I was about to lose my shit over a football game.

Over the man on the field who wasn’t giving up.

There were only sixteen seconds left in the fourth quarter and the Wildcats were down two touchdowns. They had time for one more play. But even if they scored, it wouldn’t be enough. Yet Rush wasn’t giving up.

He took his position behind the center, hands at the ready to receive the football. He looked down the line, to his left and then his right. On his command, the center snapped the ball. Rush dropped back three steps, searching for a receiver.

Erik raced down the field, his legs pumping as he did his best to outrun the defender on his heels. He raised an arm in the air, still sprinting.

Rush launched the ball, sending it spiraling through the winter air.

Catch it. I stared unblinking as the ball sailed straight into Erik’s hand.

“Yes.” I jumped as a cheer broke through the stadium.

Erik tucked the ball and ran, ignoring the guy giving chase. He ran hard, every step taking him closer to the end zone. Except right before he reached the line, the defender surged and tackled Erik to the turf.

The clock ticked to zero.

“Ouch,” I murmured.

Rush’s strong frame deflated, and that crack in my heart split it in half. He tore off his helmet, steam rising from his sweaty hair, and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“Damn.” Ryan hugged me tighter.

Macy’s hold on my arm didn’t loosen as she sniffed.

My mouth turned down, my chin wobbling as I fought the urge to cry.

Around us, Wildcat fans were making their way down the stairs toward the exits. It was eerily quiet compared to how it had been earlier today. When excitement had been crackling in the air. Even when the score had been tied at the end of the first quarter.

But once we’d fallen behind, the atmosphere had changed. Frustration had settled like a rain cloud. Anticipation had morphed to anxiety. One guy a few rows back had started yelling at the referees, blaming everything on the officials.

On the field, the guys circled, a couple of them clapping Rush on the shoulder. With his helmet in a hand, dangling at his side, he started toward the tunneled exit, congratulating a few of the other team’s players as they crossed paths.

But before he disappeared from sight, he turned to the stands, searching us out.

When he found us, exactly where we’d been since the beginning of the game, he raised an arm.

Ryan nodded. Macy waved back.

And I hoped that all he could see was my wobbly smile, not the tear sliding down my cheek.

He was swept up with the rest of the team, leaving the field with the coaches.

We waited until the line at the stairs had dwindled before finally breaking apart to collect our things.

Ryan and Macy had brought collapsible seats that fit to the metal benches. They’d brought one for me too, though we’d barely sat the entire game. We’d been on our feet for hours, not just because the game had been too tense to sit, but because it was warmer to keep moving.

The high had only reached ten degrees today, and while the sky was clear, the sun blindingly bright, it was cold as hell.

“Thank you for this.” I folded one of the blankets Macy had brought that I’d kept wrapped around my shoulders.

“Of course.” She folded her own blanket as Ryan bent and collected our empty hot cocoa cups.

Three empty cups.

They’d brought three of everything. When Ryan had gone to the concessions stand, he’d returned with three of everything too.

“We’re so glad you could sit with us today,” Macy said.

“Me too.”

“Did Rush talk to you about Christmas?”

“Um, no.”

Rush and I hadn’t really talked about much. The past week had been a jumbled blur.

Between last-minute studying and final exams, the limited time we’d spent together had either been hunched over textbooks at the diner or tangled together in Rush’s bed.

“I suppose he’s been busy with school and football,” Ryan said. “We’d love to have you come out to the ranch, if you can get away from work. We’ve always reserved Christmas for family only, so it’ll be fairly laid back. Just the four of us.”

The four of us. Family.

“I—” They considered me family?

Usually, I spent the day with Gloria and her dad and grandmother. Except she’d already warned me this week that Mom would be joining them. Dusty was closing the diner for a week to leave with Mike to visit his family in Idaho.

My family wasn’t an option.

Would Rush mind if I borrowed his for Christmas? Probably not.

Ryan and Macy stared at me, waiting for an answer.

“Y-yes.” I nodded. “Thank you. I’d love to come.”

“Wonderful.” Macy blew out a heavy breath, like she’d been braced for a rejection.

Ryan beamed, his smile so similar to Rush’s that all I could do was smile back.

I had no idea what I’d get them as gifts, maybe a couple of Dolly’s Diner mugs that Dusty had stowed somewhere in her office. I still hadn’t figured out what to get Rush either.

“Shall we?” Ryan gestured toward the end of our row, and we filed out in a single line, making our way down the stairs and ramp, then beneath the stands and through the gate that led to where people were tearing down tents and trailers.

“Whenever Rush lost a game in high school, which was rare, he’d pout for days and days.” Macy laughed as we headed for their truck. “Something tells me he’ll be okay after this one.”

“He won’t have to pout alone,” I told her.

She laughed again as we weaved through the tailgates. We loaded into their vehicle, giving it a few minutes to warm up in the cold before they drove me home so I could change and head in for work.

Dusty had offered to give me another Saturday night off, but I’d already shorted myself on hours for finals week. I couldn’t afford to miss too many hours, especially with two more people who now needed Christmas gifts.

So while Ryan and Macy hung out at our house, relaxing in the living room, I drove to the diner, arriving at four to start my shift until close.

“Hey,” I told Dusty as I walked into the kitchen, grabbing an apron to tie low beneath my growing belly.

“Hi, sugar.” She blew me a kiss from the prep table.

“Was it busy today?”

She scoffed.

Damn. I’d left another stack of flyers at the stadium today. They were the same graphic—SAVE DOLLY’S DINER—but printed on neon-yellow paper rather than electric blue.

“Do you need help with anything in here?” I asked.

“I’m good, babycakes. I just took a load of clean silverware to the dining room.”

“Okay. I’ll go roll it up.”

She winked as I walked by the table, leaning closer to see what she was mixing in her bowl. Macaroni salad. The curved noodles were mixed with sliced green onions and bits of celery. She’d tossed in bacon bits, then coated it all in creamy mayonnaise.

It looked . . . good. I hated macaroni salad but that looked delicious.

“What?” Dusty stopped stirring.

“Can I have a bowl of that?”

“This?” She pointed to the mixture with her wooden spoon. “It’s got mayo.”

“I can have mayo if it’s made with pasteurized eggs.”

“I made it without eggs.”

“Oh.” Even better.

“You hate mayo.”

I nodded. “I do hate mayo. But I really want to eat that.”

“Maybe this baby will cure you of your aversion to sauce,” she said, walking over to the rack of dishes for a bowl.

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe I’ll finally get you to eat lasagna. Though I suspect Rush won’t like that since he’s been eating it for you.”

“How did you know—never mind.” Either he’d complimented her on the lasagna—something he’d never ordered here—or she’d just assumed I’d given him the takeout.

Dusty scooped me a spoonful of the salad and went back to mixing as I headed for the dining room.

I tentatively ate the first bite of macaroni, waiting for the cringe that normally came with mayo. But it was incredible, so I inhaled the rest, then washed my hands and got to work rolling silverware.

Two older men wearing winter coats and scotch caps over their white hair came in at a quarter to five for dinner. By five thirty, six tables were full. Two groups were decked out in Wildcats gear.

Maybe, just maybe, those flyers had worked.

The door’s bell chimed as I cleared away the dishes from the two older men. Ryan and Macy stood at the hostess station, their cheeks flushed from the dark, cold evening.

The door had just closed when it swung open again, eliciting another chime.

Rush walked in, and I nearly dropped a plate when my knees buckled.

His hair was still damp from a shower. He was in a button-down plaid shirt and a pair of Wrangler jeans that draped to scuffed, brown boots. All he was missing was the hat and he’d be the sexiest cowboy to walk the face of the earth.

My ovaries exploded.

“Wow.”

Getting pregnant from that man had always been inevitable, hadn’t it? From the day he’d changed my tire.

He searched the room, and when our eyes locked, that pout on his face faded a little.

I set the plates down to clear later and crossed the diner. I walked straight into his open arms and buried my nose in his chest. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He dropped his mouth to my hair.

“Sorry about the game.”

“Me too.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I don’t like to lose.”

I slid my hands into the back pockets of his jeans and leaned away to meet his gaze. “I didn’t realize you guys were coming here for dinner.”

His forehead furrowed. “Where else would we go?”

If the only person I’d turned into a regular Dolly’s patron was Rush, I guess my mission to save this diner hadn’t entirely been a failure.

I slipped my hands free of his pockets and grabbed three menus, not that Rush needed one. He’d memorized it by now. “Dusty made macaroni salad. It’s pretty good.”

Rush’s eyebrows lifted. “You ate macaroni salad? The kind with mayonnaise as the sauce?”

“Weird, right?”

“Huh.” He nodded to my belly. “Must be Squish.”

“Squish?” Macy asked, horror clouding her expression. “Rush. Please tell me that you are not naming my grandson Squish.”

Rush grinned, shooting me a wink.

He teased her for almost an hour before finally admitting it was only a nickname.

And like Macy had predicted, the sadness over his loss didn’t last long.

The house was dark when we pulled into the driveway, but there was a strange car parked on the street out front. One step through the front door, and I knew exactly who it belonged to.

Well, sort of. I had no idea who the woman was in Maverick’s bed, just that he was definitely not in there alone.

His headboard slammed against the wall, a steady thump, thump, thump resonating through the house.

Rush closed the door as he came inside behind me. He heard the sound and groaned.

At least his parents weren’t here to hear this. Macy and Ryan had left the diner shortly after eating to drive home to the ranch. And since Rush had ridden with them to Dolly’s, he’d waited until the end of my shift so we could come home together.

“Okay,” I told him.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, let’s move in together.”

He stepped closer, taking my face in his hands. “Are you sure?”

It had only been a week since he’d asked. A week didn’t seem like enough time to make this big of a decision.

Part of me wanted to prove to myself that I could live alone. That I didn’t need anyone’s help.

Maybe I didn’t need it.

But what if I wanted help? That was the scariest part of it all. Wanting to lean on someone. Wanting to give up that control. Wanting to stop doing everything myself for once.

I wanted Rush’s plan to be my plan. Squish and school and speech pathology. Football and a future. “Kiss me before I change my mind.”

He was on me in a flash, his mouth slamming over mine. He kept my face in his hands, holding me to him as he licked the seam of my lips, coaxing them open. I expected him to delve inside, to plunder and devour until I was breathless.

But Rush fluttered his tongue against the tip of mine, that quick flick enough to earn a whimper before he pulled away.

“Faye, I⁠—”

Thump. Thump. “Oh, Maverick! Harder!”

“Eww.” I cringed.

Rush growled as he clasped his hand over mine, pulling me toward the stairs. “We’re moving.”

“Yep.” I probably wasn’t going to change my mind.

The thumping faded by the time we made it upstairs. Rush didn’t take me to his bedroom, but to the bathroom instead, reaching into the shower to turn on the spray. The water’s noise drowned out anything beyond the closed door.

Rush went to work on the buttons of his shirt. Two undone revealed the coarse, dark hair that dusted his chest. He loosened a third and there came the abs.

“Clothes off, sweets.” He shifted closer, reaching for the hem of my tee. He pulled it off my torso slowly, inch by inch, as my fingers found their way to his rippled stomach.

It was impossible not to touch him. Now that we’d started this, I’d never be able to stop. When he was close, my hands were on his body, in his pockets or on his arms. If we were sitting, I’d have a hand on his thigh. I’d never been like this with another man, but as in all things, Rush was the exception.

My hands lifted higher, dragging up his chest until I reached his shoulders and pushed at his shirt.

He shook it off his arms, letting it fall to the floor. Then he closed his eyes and bent low until his forehead was pressed to mine. His entire body relaxed as his grip settled on my hips. “I liked looking into the stands and finding you there today.”

“I liked being there.”

He stood tall and brought his fingers to my hair, pulling out the tie that I’d had in at work. When the strands tumbled free, he took it all in his fist, wrapping it once around the width of his hand. Then he tugged, forcing my head back so he could claim my mouth.

He licked and sucked, constantly changing the pace from slow to fast. Hard to soft. It meant I was always a beat behind. He was in control, and I was at his mercy.

It was freeing, giving in. Letting go.

He hummed against my lips, then broke away, loosening my hair as he spun me toward the mirror. As he kissed my neck, I stared at our reflection framed in the fogged edges of the glass.

My cheeks were flushed, my mouth wet. Rush’s body surrounded mine, tall and broad and strong and perfect.

When he looked up, his eyes finding mine, my heart trilled.

We were beautiful, the two of us together. Somehow, we fit. His strength and size complemented my petite frame and soft curves.

A slight smile ghosted his lips as he reached around my belly to pull off the elastic tie keeping my jeans fastened. Then after tugging the zipper down, he slid the denim off my legs, taking my panties too while I unclasped my bra.

When he stood, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, his arousal pressed hard against my hip.

I spun in his hold, my hands reaching for his neck to pull him down. Then it was my turn to lead for a moment.

He let me nip at his lip while I reached between us and worked on his jeans until they were on the tile with mine and his cock was throbbing in my hand.

“I need you inside,” I murmured into his mouth.

He thrust his hips forward, pushing fast into my grip as I stroked. His palms settled on my ass and he kneaded my flesh, digging hard. Then he hoisted me onto the counter, the marble cold against my naked skin.

Rush took my knees, pressing them apart before he dragged a finger through my slit. “Are you wet for me?”

“Soaked.”

He brought his finger to my mouth, pushing it past my lips until I tasted myself on his skin. It was a first. Firsts usually came with hesitation or embarrassment, but the flash of heat in his gaze was erotic. I licked his finger, sucking it deeper, as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Fuck, Faye.” He eased his finger away so his mouth could take its place. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Rush.” I inched toward the edge of the counter, hooking a leg around his hip to pull him closer.

He kissed me and thrust forward, filling me entirely.

I cried against his mouth as my body stretched around his length. “Yes.”

“You feel so fucking good.”

“More.” I braced my hands on the counter as he took hold of my thighs, keeping me in place as he started to move, in and out, until I was a trembling mess.

My moans mingled with the sound of the shower’s water. Steam billowed, coating my skin with a sheen.

Rush hit that spot inside, over and over, with every roll of his hips.

Every time he planted deep, there was a moment when he stayed rooted. Every stroke was deliberate, like there was an underlying message in his movements.

Like he wanted to say something.

My inner walls began to flutter around him, my body racing faster and faster toward the edge. He reached between us and found my clit with his finger.

One circle against the bundle of nerves and I exploded. Every muscle tensed and quaked as I pulsed around him, clenching and squeezing as my toes curled.

“Fuck,” he cursed through gritted teeth, his hands tightening on my thighs. Then he tilted his head to the ceiling and roared through his own release until we were both utterly spent.

I fell forward, collapsing against his chest as he wrapped me in his arms. We clung to each other, breathing hard, until finally my heart rate slowed and I cracked my eyes open.

Rush smiled at me, planting a sweet kiss on my nose before he carried me into the shower.

He washed my hair. I washed his body. And when the water ran cold, we dried off and went to his bed to crash, not bothering with clothes as we curled together beneath the sheets.

“I’m sorry about your game,” I said, my nose nuzzled into his throat.

He brushed his lips against my temple. “What game?”