Down & Dirty (Lightning 1)

“Of course I know what it is—I won it, after all. And I didn’t lose it. I just…lost track of it?”

“You lost track of it? It’s your Heisman trophy! How can you just lose track of your Heisman trophy?”

“I don’t know. I gave it to Heather right after I won it. Figured she deserved it as much as I did since she’s the one who was there at the beginning, catching all my practice throws after my dad died and football was the only thing keeping me sane.”

The memory forms a lump in my throat and I clear it a little, try to swallow down the sharp pain that slams through me when I least expect it. I must not do a very good job of it, though, because Emerson puts the trophy on a nearby table and then wraps her arms around my waist, pulling me close.

“I wish she was here,” I whisper, as I hold Emerson tight against me. Even six weeks after her funeral, losing Heather feels an awful lot like I imagine the phantom pain of losing a limb must feel like. I know she’s not here anymore, but I expect her to be—and every time I think of something I want to say to her, it’s like losing her all over again.

“I wish she was, too,” Emerson answers, her arms tight around my waist.

It’s not enough to take the ache away—nothing is—but it’s enough to soothe the sharp pain slicing through me, enough to have it fading back to bearable again. “What time is it?” I ask. “I’ve got to pick the kids up—”

“Actually, I arranged for Marta to pick them up today. I know it’s her day off, but she volunteered because of the move and I took her up on it. Figured it’d be better all the way around to keep their routine as normal as we possibly can.”

I’m overwhelmed all over again, have to clear my throat for the second time in as many minutes as I gaze down at the miraculous woman who’s agreed to be my wife. Eight weeks ago I had no idea she existed and now…now she’s moving in here with me, taking me on, my crazy career and two grieving kids—and making it all look simple. It’s hard to imagine how I got this lucky.

“Hey, come here,” I say, grabbing hold of her hand and gently tugging her over to the only chair in the room that isn’t currently covered with boxes. I sit and pull her down onto my lap.

She squirms a little before settling down against me. “I’m not having sex with you right now, Golden Boy. Marta and the kids will be here any minute and I don’t think catching us naked is quite the image we want to put into any of their heads—”

I kiss her then, partly to shut her up and partly because the feel of her thighs on mine makes me feel all kinds of down and dirty. She squirms a little more, but seconds later, her arms wind around my neck and she’s kissing me back. It’s the best feeling in the world.

I pull back way too soon, though, because there’s something on my mind and I’m not going to be able to settle until I talk to her about it. “Are you sure about this?” I ask as I tuck her crazy red curls behind her ear.

Her eyes go wide. “Are you not sure? Because, I’ve got to tell you, you’ve got really crappy timing—”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I answer. “But you’re taking on a lot and I don’t feel like you’re getting much in return. I just…I want you to be absolutely sure that this is what you want.”

“Don’t you mean that you’re what I want? You and the kids?”

“Yeah, actually. That’s exactly what I mean.” I don’t want to let her go—I don’t think I even can let her go at this point—but if she wants to slow things down, I’ll do my best to make that happen. “I want you to feel good about whatever decision—”

“I do feel good,” she interrupts, going so far as to put a hand over my mouth to shut me up. “And yes, it’s a lot. You’re a lot. But I love you and I love Brent and Lucy and I want us to be a family.”

I kiss her palm then pull her hand gently, inexorably, away from my mouth. “Are you su—”

“I’m sure enough to move into this damn house that has a pool and a hot tub and is twenty freaking feet from the Pacific Ocean. It doesn’t get any surer than that. So stop asking and kiss me again. By my calculations, we’ve got about twenty-five minutes before Marta and the kids show up and I expect you to put those minutes to good use. After all, this is one of the few rooms we haven’t christened yet and I expect you to do something about that.”

I’ve already got my hand under her shirt and my fingers working at her bra strap. “Far be it from me to disappoint a lady.”

She laughs as she tugs at my own shirt. “Somehow I knew you’d come around, Golden Boy.”

I laugh at the nickname. But as I slide my hand along her gorgeous, curvy thigh, I can’t help thinking how fitting the old name is. Because, despite everything—despite all the pain and rage and fear that came with losing Heather—I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little bit golden right now. Because I do. Finding Emerson has changed everything for me.

And while I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve her, I don’t care. She had her chance to get away and she didn’t take it, so now…now I’m keeping her. Forever.

For Marni, because you are the absolute best! I love you lots!

Acknowledgments

As always, there are so many people to thank when it comes to the writing and publishing of a book—so many moving parts that I’m so grateful not to have to do alone.

First of all, I need to thank my fans. Thank you so much for your excitement over my books. Thank you for buying them, reading them, leaving me comments about them, asking questions about them, coming to see me at book signings, etc. But most of all, thank you so, so much for being such wonderful, amazing people. I adore you all.

Second, I need to thank my amazing agent, Emily Sylvan Kim. You take the best care of me and my career and I’m grateful every day that I found you.

And finally, I have to thank my wonderful, brilliant, lovely editor, Sue Grimshaw, and the fabulous and magnificent Gina Wachtel. Sue and Gina, thanks so much for sticking by me through everything. You are absolutely the best and I love you more than I can ever say. Thanks to everyone else at Random House, as well, for doing such wonderful things for my books. xoxoxo