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“But I’m not fine,” I sigh. “I’m fucked.”
“And it could backfire.” Beau wraps his arm around me. “This will go viral for a hot second, but we got this. Okay?”
My phone?
You can have it. I can’t watch my vagina go viral. From here on, I’m using messenger pigeons and learning Morse Code.
After we get home and say goodnight to Ruby, who bunks in one of Beau’s lavish guest bedrooms, my sense of humor fails me. The magnitude of my panty problem settles in.
So, my plan is to set up camp under the covers of Beau’s bed for the next three years.
Who needs sunlight and joy when you can get dragged down the pavement of public opinion online for years?
“I can’t believe I did that.”
I bang my head against the shower tile. Colt’s combing conditioner through my hair. Usually, it relaxes us, but not tonight. Even when Beau replaces the polished marble walls of his spa shower with the wall of his pecs for my doofus forehead, I can’t escape my panty predicament.
“It was cute,” Beau assures, brushing the back of his fingers across my cheek.
“It was dumb,” I argue. “I should know better, especially in a short dress. If it wasn’t that dickhead photographer, it could’ve been a gust of wind.”
“Now, that would’ve been sexy.” Colt caresses my shoulders. “So Marilyn Monroe, but Blair Monroe and way hotter.”
“Nah.” Beau kisses the tip of my nose. “It was hot and sexy. Do you know how many wish they had a woman like you? One who makes sex what it should be? Natural? Fun? Passionate and whatever? Blair,” he lifts my chin, “it’ll be okay.”
“You’re sweet, but you’re lying. You both are. This is about to get feral. Your fans will eat me alive.”
“No,” Beau brushes his lips over mine, “we eat you alive. No one else.”
“Y’all, I’m serious.” But I pull away, squeezing out of their muscle sandwich. “Your season hasn’t even started, and I’ve already ruined it. It’s all they’ll talk about. Watch. Every touchdown you make, they’ll throw panties on the field.”
“That’d be fucking awesome!” Colt laughs. “That’s way better than plastic bottles and cups. Or my favorite: used toilet paper.”
“See!” I cry. “That’s what I mean. Your fans are going to kill me, and you’ll be heckled. You’ll be mocked.”
“We’ll be winning.” Beau stays calm. “They’ll get over it.”
“Fine. They’ll love you but hate me.”
“Do you care?”
“No,” I answer Beau honestly. “After Amber’s one-star review shit, I have so many haters; stand in line. But it’s not fair to you.” I reach for his hand and Colt’s. “This is going to be your winning season. You guys are crushing it. You’re gonna win the Super Bowl.”
Looking back at Beau’s blue eyes, I see so much and tears bite at mine.
“You’ve worked so hard for this. All the years you got up early for practice. Then, you went to all your classes and stayed up late, studying in the library. You?—”
“And the only way you know that,” Beau interrupts, cupping my cheek, “is because you always saw me. The real me. Colt and I were fighting, Reese was a mess, and I was alone. I always felt alone unless I was with you. So I’m not letting fuckers mess with my woman.”
“Our woman,” Colt corrects him. He doesn’t sound mad. He sounds sincere.
I squeeze Colt’s hand, then cup Beau’s on my cheek. Steam billows around us. Water gently rains from the shower heads. Rivulets stream down our bodies. Colt’s long blond strands fall in golden wet ropes, and Beau’s brown waves drip like his trimmed beard.
“Yes, I’m yours,” I answer them. “But I should go. I’m not going to be a di?—”
“Don’t say it,” Beau growls. “Don’t say that word, ever, Blair. It’s not true. These have been the best weeks of my life with you two. So no one’s leaving. Not again. Walking out of those hotel rooms before the Super Bowl and then after our Valentine’s night felt so wrong, and nothing felt right until I got you back. Both of you.” He reaches, cupping Colt’s shoulder. “Yes, we started as some fake-girlfriend-temptation bet bullshit, but that didn’t last because we’re too real. And we feel it; we’re in this together.”
“Raven.” Colt grips my hand tighter. He towers over me. “Don’t ever go. Don’t leave us. I feel like my mom finally sent you to me and?—”
