All Things Pretty (Pretty #3)(34)
Author: M. Leighton

“Oh, it’s on, little lady. It. Is. On.”

I reach around and pull her off my back, dumping her gently in the mud. Her mouth makes an O and her eyes get all round, which forces me to bend and get a handful of mud to smear on her leg.

I walk off to take my position on the field again, whistling over the sound of her indignant sputtering. Travis is still smiling as he crouches down in front of me.

When I do my solo version of snapping the ball, I fake left, fake right and then run back left, zipping around Tommi who reaches out for me and misses. Travis isn’t going down so easily, though. He shoots up at me from my right and launches himself at me. I could stay upright, but I don’t. Instead, I go down, both of us skittering through the mud. I come to a stop with Travis pinned beneath my back, wheezing for air.

“Take that, bitch,” he says, pushing at me.

“Who you callin’ bitch, lil man?” I ask, putting more of my weight on Travis and pushing. We both scoot through the mud, most of it getting on Travis.

“Get off me, you goon.”

Tommi walks up, smiling down at us, shaking her head. “You two are gonna be filthy.”

I lean up and glance back at Travis, who gives me a shit-eatin’ grin. We both nod in silent agreement and I stand, offering him a hand to get up.

I get the ball two more times, giving Tommi and her brother every opportunity to jump on, run after, try to trip and fly at me as I half-heartedly make my way toward the makeshift goal line. I score on my last drive, dragging Tommi (holding onto my arm) and Travis (wrapped around my leg) into the endzone with me.

“You can’t stop this,” I tell them when I fling the ball up into the air and catch it again.

“Hey, you haven’t won yet,” Tommi says with determination. She puts her arm around Travis’s shoulder and they walk off, her whispering in his ear all the way back to the line of scrimmage.

They run the same play again–Travis throwing, Tommi receiving. This time when Tommi takes off, I start off slowly after her. Travis gets the ball to her with a fairly decent, not entirely disappointing arm and Tommi clumsily catches it, squealing in glee.

“I caught it! I caught it!”

Travis is yelling from behind as he runs forward to stop me, “Run, dumb ass! Don’t just stand there.”

Shock registers on Tommi’s face and she turns to take off. Catching her easily, I sweep her up into my arms and throw her onto the ground. Nothing that will hurt her, just enough force to make her feel well and truly caught.

I fall down on top of her, my body resting between her legs, and I take the ball from where it’s gripped tight in her arms. I tap her on the end of the nose with the laces. “Still didn’t score, sweetheart.”

Her chest is heaving beneath me and her eyes sparkle like dark emeralds at midnight, glimmering with a passion she’s having trouble containing. I know because I’m struggling, too. I stare down into her face, desire zinging between us like exhilarating bolts of lightning.

I flex my hips ever so slightly and am gratified when I hear her soft gasp. I lick my lips, ready to give in and kiss her, when I feel a heavy thump on my back.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” I say, speaking to Travis, but winking at Tommi, who is still staring at me with her lips parted. “Unnecessary roughness!”

I roll onto my back, trapping Travis beneath me until I can wiggle around to get my hands on him. When I do, I flip him onto his stomach, putting his face right in the mud. “You asshole!” His squeal is muffled, but there’s laughter in his voice.

“How do you like that, tough guy?”

He struggles and I let him squirm out of my grasp. I turn to grab Tommi quickly, before she can get away. I take her in my arms and tickle her mercilessly. When her gasps are almost pained they’re so breathless, I finally let her slide off my lap. But I’m not done. I take two handfuls of mud and throw one on her stomach and one at the watchful Travis, who’s standing off to the side watching us. He deflects and bends for his own ammunition as I scrape up more goop.

Touch football quickly turns into nothing more than a mud fight, full of lots of cheap shots and laughing. At one point, I just sit back and watch Travis and Tommi smear each other with thick globs of the stuff, aiming for each other’s mouth and hair and ears.

When there are literally no clean surfaces visible on their faces and arms, they turn to me, panting and exhausted. “Now what?”

“I think you’ve both had enough, but I’ll leave it up to you. More football or hot shower?”

Travis and Tommi look at each other and grin. “Hot shower,” they say simultaneously.

Tommi eyes her brother, shaking her head. “You’re filthy! You should probably change back into your other clothes so that at least we won’t get the back seat dirty,” Tommi tells him. When he starts off, nodding in acknowledgement, she calls after him, “And take those shoes off before you get in.”

Her lips are still curved when she turns her attention back to me. Something about the moment hits me like a punch to the gut. I think for a second that I could stand here and stare at her, just enjoy her smile and her happiness for hours. Days, maybe. But I can’t. We can’t. So, instead, I brush a clump of mud from the end of her nose. “Have fun?”

“I did. Thank you. This was so good for him.”

“And you.”

“And me,” she concedes.

“You can be the real you around me anytime. I won’t tell a soul.”

“So you prefer this?”

“Oh, hell yeah! I don’t need glamorous. Or proper.”

“I’m not proper.”

“You forget that I heard your…expressiveness that day on the side of the road. And it didn’t consist of ‘darn’ or ‘golly gee’. But I haven’t heard anything like that come out of your mouth since then.”

“Ladies aren’t supposed to talk that way, according to Lance.”

“I don’t want a lady. I want a woman. One who knows her own mind. One who wears what she’s comfortable in, one who says what she’s thinking.” I take a step closer. I can’t help myself. Her scent draws me in. Even covered in mud, she smells like sexy sunshine. “I want the woman who kisses like she’s on fire and makes me feel like I’m the only one who can put her out.”

“Sig,” she begins.

I break in to cut her off. I know her objections. And I know how much I don’t want to hear them. “I’m just being honest. I’m not even touching you.”