Page 5 of Rescuing Royce
Evie’s tone held just enough desperation that Royce knew any chance he had of finally going after Amber Wyatt was a bad idea. Now he just had to convince his constant hard-on whenever he was around her that there’d be no fun time with the curvy brunette.
“Tomorrow’s the first game of the championship. Where are you sitting?” Evie’s words rushed out.
“In the box with T.S. and Grant for sure. I don’t know who else they invited. Shit. Are you and Amber going to be there too?”
“Not this time. We’re joining all the wives and girlfriends in the section right under the owner’s box. So there’s no worry about you two running into each other.”
Yeah, except he’ll have a bird's eye view of the woman who kissed the hell out of him last night—twice.
“I’m sure there wasn’t anyone else at O’Malley’s that both of you know. So we may be in the clear. The other women with us last night were friends of Sophie’s we just met at the baby shower plus Caris, but she went home to put the kids to bed instead of hanging with the single ladies.”
“Yeah.” What else was there to say. As much as Pineville had grown since he was a kid, it still held onto its small-townroots. People knew friends of friends of friends. Chances were someone had seen him with Amber last night. The only thing left to do was wait and hope that Reese was so wrapped up in the postseason with Connor that anything said in passing wouldn’t rise to her notice.
“Thanks for the call, Evie. I mean it, but it’s out of our hands. As long as Amber doesn’t suddenly remember that has to be good enough. I’ll see you at the game tomorrow.” Royce ended the call and walked around his apartment. His mom had helped him out with the furniture and necessary household stuff when he moved back, but it didn’t feel like home. Not yet. He still thought of his parent's place as home, where his mom still lived almost two decades since dad had passed.
He was living in a glorified hotel room minus room and maid service. Right now it suited his needs. His years on the police force and recently with SWAT had left him little time to establish roots. He wasn’t sure he’d ever find anyone who’d put up with his moods anyway. Mindless hook-ups filled the hole when his sex drive ramped up, at least temporarily. Hell, if he could find a woman who matched his needs in the bedroom and could also cook and was fulfilled with something outside of a relationship, he may just marry her.
His wishful thinking wouldn’t conjure a dream woman. Shaking his head at the turn his thoughts had taken, he showered and changed into his uniform. Another day protecting and serving was ahead of him, and he needed to banish personal wants for now. The problem was his mind kept wandering back to a curvy brunette with dark chocolate eyes whose face he imagined whenever his thoughts turned to his dream woman. And now he knew how her lips felt, tasted.
And damn if no other woman would do now. Not until he worked Amber out of his system. As he drove his truck toward the Pineville Police Station, he realized he only had two options—either leave town or make a play for Amber and somehow keep his sister from finding out.
He wondered if Connor would be willing to take Reese on an extended vacation after the championship series was over?
4
For the past two weeks Royce spent his time in two modes; focused on his job or strung tight as a new violin anticipating an angry text from his sister. He wasn’t good at keeping secrets, but he was an expert at avoiding his sister.
He hated the feeling of limbo he was in. But today, if the predictions were true, the Outlaws would win the fourth game of the USBL championship, and it would be the last time he’d need to endure watching Amber from feet away. The level of anticipation for game seven was electric throughout the Crystal Palace, the nickname the locals gave to Outlaw Stadium.
Each time he saw her, his waking fantasies increasingly became more vivid. Her long hair tied back in a long pony-tail tonight had him imagining how it would feel in his hand wound around his wrist as he entered her from behind, all the while her soft moans of pleasure urged him faster.
“Hey, Kincaid. Stop ogling the poor girl and go sit next to her. I’m sure she doesn’t bite.” Grant Conrad, the part-owner of the Idaho Outlaws, handed Royce a beer.
Royce held back a sigh. “That’s only part of the problem.”
The crowd and those in the owner’s box erupted in cheers as the home team took the field to begin game seven.
“Wait…what?” Grant finished cheering and turned to Royce.
“Nothing. Forget it. She’s off limits. Reese and I have an understanding about her friends. I stay away, and I get to continue to breathe.” He looked over to his sister, who was three seats down from him.
“Huh. Well, if that’s the case, what does she do to you when she catches you, uheye-you-know-whattingone of her friends?”
Royce busted out laughing. Everyone in the box turned around, including Amber.
“What’s so funny?” Reese leaned forward but didn’t take her gaze off her husband in the outfield.
“Nothing. Royce and I were, it’s just…,” Grant’s word faded as he sent Royce an imploring look.
“Don’t look at me, man. You’re the one who PG-13 a perfectly good word most eight year old’s know the meaning of.” Royce’s gaze remained on Amber even after she turned her attention back to the field.
“Well, shit.” Grant rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled a reason for Royce’s laughter; something lame about the opposing team’s mascot.
“Smooth, Conrad. You have skills. That how you got Sophie to let you touch her?”
Uh. Oh. Royce had poked the bear. A big bear of a man who, in spite of no longer being a professional athlete, Grant Conrad could still outrun most members of the Outlaw’s roster. So, yeah, not a good comeback to trash talk a guys wife.
“You just remember who has a woman in his bed every night and who doesn’t.” Grant punched Royce’s arm and finished off his drink.
