Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

“Something like that,” he said with a nod.

“Something like...ye can fuck right off,” I snapped. “You write for a highly respected men’s magazine,” I said, stepping away from the girls. “So have a little more respect for your audience. No, I don’t cheat on my girlfriend. I only indulge in her. It does count as cheating if you’re in a different area code, and I don’t know a single Reaper who fucks around on his woman. We all have the self control to walk away from available pussy because our women mean the entire world to us.”

I turned to the models who all stood gawking. “Not that you ladies aren’t lovely, but I happen to be madly in love with the woman I have waiting for me at home.”

“Totally get it,” Desiree said with a nod.

The brunette was already eyeing Cannon.

“So if we’re done here?” I asked John.

“Yeah...okay. Thank you for your time. You were my last interview, so the digital article will be up tomorrow and the print will be out in a few weeks.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Sarcasm practically dripped from my tone.

“Thanks. Uh, we still okay to use a couple of the shots?” he asked the photographer.

“Yeah, Armani is cool with it as long as you mention that it’s from this shoot. I’ll send you a few shots tonight.”

John muttered his thanks and walked out.

The models behind me clapped. “That was awesome!” Desiree laughed.

“Okay, ladies, last shot!” The photographer ordered. “Connell we need you to walk forward and girls you fall to the back. Yep, like that.”

I stood in front of the camera with a delighted smirk on my face because I’d meant every word I’d said to that misogynistic prick.

The photographer started snapping, and then said, “Now!”

The girls opened fire, and I was hit with streams of cold, water...no...champagne? I laughed hard as they sprayed me down. The pranker had been good and pranked.

“And we’re done!” The photographer announced.

An assistant—Vanessa—rushed at me with a soft towel, and I wiped the champagne off my face before drying my hair. “Sorry about that. We thought it might be more genuine if you didn’t know it was going to happen.”

“Quite alright,” I assured her as I dripped champagne onto the floor.

“She’s lucky, you know,” she said quietly, looking up at me without the blatant invitation she’d broadcast earlier.

“She?” I asked, ridding myself of my soaked jacket.

“Your girlfriend. We do shoots like this a lot and...well, she’s just really lucky.” She took the towel and the jacket from me.

“I assure you, I’m the lucky one.”

“And we will be the lucky ones if you get your ass out of that suit because we have a game!” Cannon shouted.

“Right. We have a game,” I agreed with a grin.

And in a couple of days, I’d get to go home to Annabelle. It took exactly five minutes to get into the suit I’d actually wear over to the arena, and two of those were to shower the liquor off me.

“Why the hell are you still grinning like an idiot?” Cannon asked as we rode the elevator to the lobby.

“Just happy, I guess. The love of a good woman will do that for you, right, Logan?”

“True,” he said, his eyes falling to his phone. “Speak of the devil. Hey, babe,” he said as his phone lit up with the facetime call.

“For fuck’s sake,” Cannon muttered.

“Hey! Can you see me?” Blair waved.

“Give me a second, we’re in the elevator.”

The doors dinged, and Logan walked out ahead of us.

“Did you hear me? I got a Birkin bag!” She lifted some kind of satchel to the screen.

“That’s nice,” Logan said as we made our way through the lobby. “You having fun shopping in Atlanta?”

“Yeah, it’s great! I still can’t believe you sent me with your credit card!”

At that, Cannon and I shared a look. He gave her his fucking credit card?

“No problem.”

“Babe, you don’t get it. They don’t just give these out. You can’t even buy them unless you’re someone.” Good God, the woman sounded like she’d just been given the Holy Grail.

“That’s...really great,” Logan assured her in a placating tone.

“They weren’t going to give one to me, but I happened to open my instagram page while I was at the Hermes store and left it just...sitting there with a picture of you, and then the sales consultant noticed.”

“Okay?” Logan’s voice shifted a little as we walked outside where the bus waited.

Fuck, we were ten minutes late.

“So then she recognized you and when she realized we’re together, she let me buy one! It was only like thirty-five, too!” She grinned.

“Thirty-five hundred? I don’t know much about bags. Is that good?”

Coach stood outside the bus with crossed arms, looking anything but pleased.

“What? No, thirty-five thousand. You said I didn’t have a limit, right? I mean, I’ll take it back if you want me to, but...I’ll never get another one. It would be so… But I’ll take it back if that’s what you want, babe.”