The Way We Touch: or Wrangling the Wide Receiver (The Bradford Boys)

“It’s like he got a second wind. He’s playing better ball than he’s played all season.” My brothers sit in their usual spots in front of the big screen televisions in the restaurant, and the crowd for football night has grown.

Ever since the story was published, the community has rallied around us like they always do when a storm hits. It was almost like they saw the big city gossip sites coming after us, and they decided Logan and I needed their help.

We’re a village that faces down life-threatening storms every couple of years, so dealing with a sneaky take-down artist is small potatoes. Even if I’m still embarrassed that photo of me blowing Logan is out there for everyone to see.

Unexpectedly, I’ve had a few of the older ladies give me knowing nods and elbows, like we all share a secret now. The worst was Salina Duck’s mom telling me it’s important to keep your man happy.

“I wanted to die.” I grab Allie by the arm as I hide behind my friendly column. “I was just delivering the leftover Carolina Reaper sauce I made for Oliver that night, remember that?”

It was the same night the little brat finally said I’d made the Dare dish hot enough.

Allie nods, her eyes fixed on the screens above the bar. “Oliver Duck has a crush on you. That’s why he acts the way he does. He’d melt his ass off to get your attention.”

“He’s fifteen.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t take your ballet class. Probably didn’t want you to see him in tights beside Austin and Josh.”

“Well, anyway, I figured he was the only one who’d want that leftover sauce. Then his mom just came on out and started telling me about how when Mr. Duck was going through his midlife crises, the one way she kept him from philandering was with tantric massage.”

My friend’s eyes cut to mine. Mine are wide, and I press my lips together in a grimace.

“Dylan Bradford, that is a visual I did not need in my head.”

“Tell me about it.”

Waldorf Duck is shorter than I am, round, and always sweaty. We both shudder then start to laugh, but it’s short-lived.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Allie is on her feet jumping up and down.

The guys are all standing as well, and even Austin is jumping around yelling. Logan is making a 50-yard run to the end zone.

We all scream when Garrett goes down, taken out by a defensive lineman.

“Oh, no!” I cover my face, not wanting to see my gentle giant of an older brother tackled by an even bigger giant. “Is he okay?”

“He’s okay.” Allie holds my forearm, rubbing my back.

“It was just a matter of time,” Jack grumbles as we watch Garrett clawing the grass, doing his best to get back on his feet. “They’re all studying the two of them.”

It doesn’t matter. The play is happening. The cornerback is headed straight for my man, and Logan is so focused on completing the pass, I’m not sure he even knows Garrett is out.

He’s off his feet, arms extended, gliding through the air. The entire room holds its breath as we wait to see if the defensive player, also reaching hard, is going to block it.

It’s the final play of the game. Garrett is on his feet again, and as the ball descends, two hands reach out.

“Get it, Logan!” I scream, and in that instant, his fingers stretch.

The ball sticks like velcro, and he rips it to his chest. It’s an off-center catch. One corner of the ball sticks up to his shoulder, but he’s got it. He continues flying through the air until he lands on his side, just at the corner of the goal line.

“It’s good!” Zane yells louder than I’ve heard him since he’s been home.

The entire restaurant bursts into screams and cheers. People are hugging and jumping up and down. It’s as wild as a Dare night. Craig laughs, running over to lift me up and spin me around.

When he puts me on my feet, he slaps both hands on the tops of my shoulders. “Did you see that?”

I’m laughing so hard, I can only nod my head. “I saw it!”

The field is in chaos with all the people running out to congratulate the players. Again, my brother has Logan off his feet in the air, but this time, he doesn’t make the signal.

This time he struggles to get down, to get to the reporter on the field. When the blonde woman asks how he’s feeling about the MVP award, he puts his hand on the neck of the mic, looking straight into the camera with his blue eyes so focused.

“Dylan Bradford, I love you. You are the perfect woman for me, and I want everyone in this town to know it. You’re exactly my type.”

Heat flashes from my head to my toes, and I cover my face with both hands as everyone in the restaurant turns to look at me. They’re all smiling, pride in their eyes, and I know I don’t have to prove anything in this place. We’ve all suffered and cried and supported each other through all of life’s ups and downs.

Still, that was on national TV.

Even if he can’t see or hear me, I hold up my hand, my thumb and index finger crossed, and say it loud, “I love you, Logan Murphy!”

Everyone breaks into applause, a taxi whistle cuts through the air, and the celebration continues.

“How will I celebrate Thanksgiving without you here?” Craig sits on the silver worktable in the kitchen. “You know my parents drive me crazy.”

“So come with me! We haven’t been to New York together since we were kids, and it’s going to be all decorated for the holiday. We can run around Midtown together, catch a show, ice skate at Rockefeller Center.”

“Logan would love that.” He rolls his eyes.

“He wouldn’t mind!”

“I am not horning in on your love nest. You two have sex all over the damn place. I’ve seen the photographic evidence.” My eyes narrow, and he holds up both hands. “Too soon?”

“Way too soon.”

“Sorry.” Craig hops off the table to give me a hug. “You know I’m the biggest fan of LoDy… DeeLo? DeeLight?”

“You are not combining our names… but I like DeeLight.” We both snort a laugh. “What about Closeted Clint? Why don’t you do something with him for Thanksgiving?”

“I’ve put him on notice.” Craig holds up a hand, shaking his head. “He either owns our relationship, or it’s over.”

My eyebrows rise. “Strong words from someone so infatuated.”

“I’m not infatuated, and I deserve a man who’ll fight for me, too.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I hug my bestie. “You’re worth fighting for.”

I think about how Logan is fighting for me. He forwarded to me his lawyer’s reply to his lawsuit request against TMI. It basically said exactly what he predicted it would, but he was still angry.

Logan

It’s not right these dickheads can get away with printing shit like that.

We were careless going onto the balcony.

Logan

I should’ve known better, but you’re hard to resist.

That makes me smile.

Everyone in town has been so great. I don’t know how many of them read the article, but they’ve all been coming to C&S for the games and supporting us.

Logan

That does it. Newhope is our new home.

I think they’re doing it for my parents.

Logan

They’re doing it for you, Dylan.

His words make me pause.

I don’t know why it’s hard for me to believe I matter that much to people. My brothers have always been the ones everyone pays attention to. They’re the celebrities, not me.

Still, in the last two weeks, my greatest humiliation has turned into my greatest source of peace. Jack pulled me into a hug and told me I could talk to him any time. Zane told me Miss Gina wants me to come for a visit. I told him to tell her as soon as I get back from New York.

Climbing the steps to the small plane, I wonder if I’m growing up or if I’m simply becoming less afraid of the future. I’m not the type to sit around and consider my life choices, what I’ve done and what it means. I typically go with my instincts.

The one time I did lean into the direction my life was going, when I dedicated myself to ballet, I learned very quickly life does what it wants. We can work hard and make plans, but we can’t control everything.

At the same time, working with Mia, even being with Logan, I’m starting to feel like I am important, and I can make a difference. I’m letting go of the notion that I can protect myself by not wanting things so much.

It’s okay to dream, to take risks, and if a door closes, look around for the unexpected door standing wide open. Most of all, I have people there to catch me if I fall. I always have.

Stepping off the plane this time, when I see him standing there just like before, waiting with his hand in his pocket and that smile on his face, something shifts. Up to now, this has felt like a beautiful dream.

Now it feels real. It feels like forever.

We’re less frantic than last time, thanks to Logan’s visit two weeks ago. Still, my hand never leaves his as we make the drive from the airport to his apartment building, and he holds me tight to his side as we ride the elevator to the top floor.

Stepping into his luxury apartment with its soft pine floors, large, white sectional sofa, granite countertops, and brushed stainless appliances, I’m struck by something new.

“You put blackout shades on all the windows.” I walk into the living room, sinking my bare feet into the plush, white rug.

You can take a girl out of the country, but you can’t make her wear shoes. I slip off my fluffy coat, tossing it onto the chair so I’m only wearing a short, sage-green dress with thin straps and no underwear.

The heat of his body is at my back, and he places his hands on my upper arms. “No one is going to violate your privacy this time.” His voice is low, determined. “I want you to feel safe here.”

My heart squeezes, and I turn, reaching for his shoulders. “You’re the one who’s not safe, remember?” It’s a sassy tease. “We established that on Day 1.”

It breaks the tension like I’d hoped, and he laughs, lifting off my feet. “I’m still going to protect my dangerous girl.”

“You’re such a caveman.” Leaning closer, I pull his ear with my teeth, humming a happy noise. “Love me like nobody’s watching.”

“I’m going to love you so hard everyone will know.” His hands grip my thighs under the tiered skirt of my dress, and heat is in my veins. “They just won’t have pictures.”

Our mouths unite, and his tongue invades, possessive and hungry like always. He carries me to the sofa to sit, pulling the straps of my dress down my arms.

My breasts spill out, and he groans, lifting and squeezing them, covering my body with kisses. I wiggle out of my top, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, quickly unfastening them so I can slide my fingers over his chest.

His cock is hard in his jeans, and I rock my body over it, feeling the heat rising. His hands slide to my bare ass, and he groans a swear. Rolling me so my back is on the cushions, he lifts my knee before burying his face between my legs.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, threading my fingers in his hair.

Fire blazes through my veins with every pass of his tongue over my clit, and it’s not long before I’m soaked and aching for him. He’s on his knees looking down at me, blue eyes dark with desire, and I watch as he unfastens his jeans, releasing his erection.

Pushing up onto my elbows, I wrap my fingers around his shaft, holding it to my lips and tracing my tongue around the mushroom tip. His dick jumps, and he exhales a low groan, sliding his fingers lightly along my jaw.

I take him as far as I can, bobbing my head and sliding my hand to meet it. His hips rise and he groans. His fingers curl in the side of my hair, twisting tighter, until he lifts me onto his lap.

“I need to be inside you.” It’s a rough, animalistic order.

My knees are beside him on the couch and my breasts flatten against his chest as I ride him. I lift onto my knees, sliding all the way to his tip, almost out, then I drop again.

His head drops back and he jerks with a loud groan. It sends a charge of orgasm racing through my core, and I do it again. Large hands grip my ass, and he starts to move me up and down.

Our movements are feverish, and I’m lost in the sensations swimming in my veins. Sweat trickles down his cheek, and I kiss it. Salt is on my tongue, and I curl it into his mouth.

He groans into my kiss, and his hips rise off the couch. The hair on his chest tickles my sensitive nipples, and my second orgasm grows tighter in my core.

“Fuck, Dylan, I’m coming.” His body jerks, and he drives deeper.

It’s so deep, his cock strikes a place that fires orgasm through my veins. My eyes squeeze, and my body stiffens. My back arches, I’m jumping faster on his lap, doing everything I can to get more of the sensation.

His fingers tickle my ass, and his stomach shudders. “Oh, God, Dylan.”

I’m in another world, doing my best to keep going as my body gradually finishes, as the spasming of my muscles subsides.

Falling forward on his chest, my body is limp, and I start to giggle.

“What?” A grin is in his tone.

“I think I just rode the lightning.”

We both start to laugh, and he wraps his strong arms around me. My face is tucked against his chest, our hearts beat in time, and I guess we’re both dangerous.

“Nobody interviewed me.” Maddy crosses her arms roughly. “I’d have told them what a wonderful person you are, and how you’re exactly Logan’s type.”

“Aw, you’re sweet to me.”

We’re both wearing our navy jerseys with big red numbers on the front. Hers is 18 for Charlie—who I don’t call Johnson. I’m in my Number 12, and we’re standing in the glassed-in box together overlooking the field.

“It’s just the truth. The only reason they went after you is because you’re interesting. Models are all the same. They have to have mass appeal, so they can’t be too spicy.”

She gives me a wink, and I smile. “Thanks, Mads. You’re the best.”

“Us girls have to look out for each other.”

A small group of people are with us, including Charlie’s parents, and we have snacks and drinks. I’m holding a beer, and I’m a little nervous not to be hiding behind my lucky pole.

But I’m determined to be strong for this game. I’m going to smile and cheer and wave and give Logan our signal.

The guys are on the sidelines, and right at that moment, he looks up at me.

I wave and cross my index finger over my thumb, holding it up and wondering if he can even see it. He grins and signals back, and I’m as happy as a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh, y’all are so cute!” Maddy wraps her arm around my waist and gives me a side-hug. “Charlie and I should do something like that.”

“You know what this means?”

“Sure! It’s the Korean hand signal for I love you.” She shrugs. “I mean, I guess it’s anybody’s signal now, that’s just where it started.”

Clasping my hands together, I think about how long he’s been doing it on camera, telling me he loved me in front of the whole world before he even said the words to me.

“Do you think Logan knows what it means?”

She slants her eyes at me. “Yes. It’s a heart, see?”

She makes the signal, and I see it now. “I just thought it was fun and went with it.”

“It’s adorable. Just like y’all are.”

Any insecurity I might have been feeling at returning to the city fades, and as the players take the field, the only nerves I have are watching the guys.