Page 116 of Dirty Player
I did. I’d take this chance she gave me and prove to her exactly the kind of man I wanted to be. I wanted to take her to my house, burn it down and build another one in its place that was everything she had ever dreamed of. I wanted to plant my babies inside of her and watch them grow up, flourishing under her kind and crazy love.
I wanted to have her by my side after every game, celebrating every win and commiserating after every loss.
I would spend the rest of my days proving to her exactly how much I loved her, how much I cherished her, how much I never wanted to hurt her again, and if I did, I wanted to prove to her that I wouldn’t be a fucking dumbass and I’d make amends immediately, not letting it fester until it became buried deep inside her.
Shannon Hale swooped into my life at a time when love and laughter and forever were the last damn things on my mind, but she changed my mind about all of it almost as soon as I’d touched her, before I could admit it to myself.
Now, I just had to spend the rest of my life showing her how much it meant to me.
It’d be the dirtiest game of my life.
EPILOGUE
SHANNON
Confetti rained down on me and the massive crowd allowed on the field after the final field goal had determined our victory.
The Raleigh Rough Riders were Super Bowl Champions.
My cheeks ached from grinning so wide as I searched through the horde of people, trying to find Beaux or Oliver.
Next to me, Jillian Rudolph squeezed my hand and pulled me closer to the stage they’d set up immediately following the game.
“Come on!” she shouted, turning back to look at me. Mascara stained her cheeks from happy tears and I knew mine looked similar. “They’re this way!”
As soon as we got close, elbowing our way through the reporters and ducking beneath their oversized cameras, I came face to face with one of the men I’d been searching for.
“We fucking did it!” Oliver pulled me into his arms and lifted me high into the air, squeezing me so hard I was breathless. “I can’t believe we pulled it off.”
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. “You were amazing. That last catch right on the two-yard line you had will go down in history as one of the best ever.”
He swung me in a circle before setting me on my feet. “It was a hard-fought game, by both teams.”
I rolled my eyes before I planted my lips on his. Oliver wasn’t known for his humility. I blamed his statement on shock. He was right, though: Raleigh and Seattle had battled back and forth all game, making it a nail-biter of epic proportions. An interception with less than a minute left had ended in our game-winning field goal and a final score of 27-25.
“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered into his ear.
“Hey. What am I, chopped liver?”
I turned to Beaux, and Oliver let me go so I could immediately be swept up in my brother’s arms. He squeezed me almost as tightly as Oliver just had, but I clung to him more tightly. “I’m so damn proud of you,” I whispered, holding him so tight around his neck that I thought I might choke him. “Can you believe you’ve done it?”
“Feels fucking awesome.”
He let me go, and Oliver’s hand went to my lower back. A look I didn’t understand passed between the two of them before we heard another roar rumble through the crowd.
“That’s Coach,” Beaux said, nodding at Oliver. “Need to get to the podium.”
“Come on.” Oliver pressed me forward, stopping briefly to accept congratulations and pats on the back from media and fans and family members of teammates while he pushed me toward the podium with him.
My feet halted as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Come with me.”
I glanced between Beaux and Oliver. “I should stay here.”
“Fuck if you are,” Beaux said, a teasing glimmer in his eye. “Family’s allowed up here when the MVP trophy is presented.”
My eyes widened. “MVP? You?”
