Broken Play (9 page)

“This place is packed,” Cass shouted over his shoulder to Beau. They'd texted Tyler before coming to make sure they were still at this bar. It was a new place for the team to gather and word had gotten out. Somehow he smelled Tom Kelly all over it. The kid was goofy enough to love this shit. The owner must be a Rebels fan by now.

The current song and singer finished and the crowd cheered and yelled. Things settled a bit as some techno-pop came on and the dancing kicked in. Cass saw her then. Marian was at a back table sitting with Tyler. They were talking, their heads close together and as he watched Tyler rubbed her back. Cass took a deep breath and tried not to jump to conclusions. There were a bunch of other players around them. Nothing intimate going on. Now that his target was in sight, he headed right for her, straight across the dance floor.

“Hey, Cass!” He turned to see Tom Kelly jump off the stage and wade through the dancers toward him. “Come on,” he shouted. “Karaoke!” He shoved a microphone at Cass and Cass automatically took the handoff. Then he shook his head, but it was too late. The crowd had heard and they started chanting his name. Tom was grinning like an idiot, clearly not realizing that he was poking a bull.

“I don't sing,” he shouted over the music.

“No one here does, man,” some guy shouted back, and a bunch of people laughed. “Go on,” he told Cass, motioning him toward the stage. “Don't be chicken.”

Cass turned to Beau, who backed away slowly, his hands in the air, preventing the microphone pass. “Go on,” he told Cass with a grin. “Sing something. The boys are watching.”

That made Cass pause. He looked around and saw that Beau was right. The whole team was watching him. The way camp had been going, this was the first time he'd had everyone's attention. The team was not jelling. Cass had blamed Danny Smith's no-show for it, but the truth was that he'd been so focused on Smith he hadn't tried to connect with anyone else. Maybe this was the time to do it. Maybe singing some stupid-ass song and making a fool of himself was the way to bring these boys together. Marian was smiling at him challengingly. She didn't think he'd do it.

“All right,” he said, and Beau's eyes grew wide right before he started laughing.

“You? Are going to sing?” he asked. “This I've got to see.”

“You can stand in the front row,” Cass told him. He blew into the microphone. “Is this thing on?” His voice came through the speakers on the last word and he jumped as people laughed. “How does this work?” he asked into the microphone. People were pushing him toward the stage, shouting out directions, but it was Tom who jumped up there with him and showed him how the machine worked.

“Pick a song,” he told him, running his finger down a long list.

“That one,” Cass said, jabbing his finger at the list. It was the first one he recognized. They didn't have enough country music on that list.

“All right,” Tom said with a grin. “That's a good one.”

By now, most of the players had pushed their way up to the front of the crowd and were cheering him on. He grinned down at them as the first guitar riff and piano notes of “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon came on. Cass knew this song like the back of his hand. He'd listened to it a million times, even learned to play it on the guitar when he was a kid. Before he'd even gotten through the first verse, Beau climbed up onstage with him, and the two of them howled out the chorus. That seemed to be some kind of sign, as the rest of the team howled from the floor and then climbed up on the stage.

Somehow all the guys ended up in a line behind him, doing a stupid, simple little dance move that Tom taught them. The kid could move. Cass cracked up at King rocking out up there, and Beau took up the second verse of the song. By the next chorus, they were howling like mad in the bar. Cass was laughing so hard he could barely sing. Tyler jumped up and began to play air guitar on the solo, and girls screamed like he was playing the real thing.

Jo Jo leaned into the mic and sang the line “I'd like to meet his tailor” while he ran his fingers down the lapel of his obviously expensive jacket. The man did love to dress well. After that, the players took turns jumping in front of the mic for a line or two of the song.

Cass could see Marian in the back, laughing so hard she was wiping her eyes. Sam Franklin sat with her. Cass wasn't surprised the vet hadn't joined them, but it was good to see him smiling with Marian, and laughing at them all.

The end of the song came up, and when Warren sang about the werewolves' perfect hair, almost everyone up onstage ran his hand along the side of his head, like they were all checking their hair. Cass had been doing that for years whenever he heard that line, and he'd seen Beau do it, too. He guessed everyone did. It was classic when they all did it at the same time. They howled at the end of the song like crazy fools, and the bar howled with them, and then the crowd started chanting “Rebels,” and for the first time, Cass felt like he was part of something, something that just needed a little polish to really shine.

They jumped down off the stage and half the guys joined the crowd, but Cass and Beau had one destination, which they approached with single-minded determination. Tyler waved them in front of him with a laugh, and followed behind as they approached Marian.

“That…” She paused and shook her head, laughing. “I have no words. It was perfect.”

Cass grinned back. This was not a woman on the run. “I sang it from the heart,” he told her, trying to be serious. “All for you, sugar.”

Sam put his hand over his face and shook his head as Marian laughed again. “That is so sweet,” she said breathlessly. “A song about murderous, well-dressed werewolves. Definitely a first for me.”

“He's a romantic at heart,” Beau said, sliding into the empty chair next to Marian. Cass gave Sam a pointed look and the linebacker slid out of the seat on her other side.

“Just keeping it warm for you,” he told Cass. “I'm, uh, gonna go over there.” He pointed in the general direction of the wall, about five feet away.

Cass swung his hand out and Sam clapped his to it in a rough shake. “Good idea,” Cass told him good-naturedly, and gave him a shove after they let go of the handshake. He threw himself into the vacated chair. “So you liked my serenade?” he asked Marian.

“Yep,” she said. “Take me, I'm yours.” She got up abruptly and awkwardly turned and stood straddling his lap. Cass was so surprised he nearly tipped his chair over. His heart was pounding and he wasn't sure if it was leftover adrenaline from the song, Marian's words, or the way she was straddling him. She chose that moment to plop down in his lap and he caught her around the waist. She turned and frowned at Beau. “Too far away,” she told him. “Scoot over.” She imperiously pointed to the chair she'd recently been sitting in. With a grin, Beau slid from one seat to the next. Marian smiled. “Good boy.” Then, with one hand on Cass's shoulder while she sat on his lap, she reached out and pulled Beau over for a kiss.

Cass could smell the liquor on her. He knew he ought to stop her, but damn, he liked to watch the two of them together. Beau slid his hand into her hair and held her head still while he kissed her slow and deep. Cass could see his tongue sliding into her mouth and moving with hers. He was hard, just like that. She moaned and squirmed in his lap and he muttered a low curse. He looked up to see several of the guys staring at them, and beyond them, several bar patrons beginning to notice. He found Tyler in the crowd and frowned. Suddenly their table was surrounded by big-ass pro ballers, their backs to Cass and Beau and Marian, blocking everyone else's view. Cass relaxed and turned his attention back to Beau and Marian.

Beau was kissing her neck and she had her head tilted back, Beau's hand supporting the back of her head. Her eyes were closed, and in the low light of the bar, the dance floor's flashing lights illuminating her face, she was gorgeous. She was clutching Cass's shoulder, completely into Beau and what he was doing to her. He looked down and he could see her hard nipples poking the faded, worn material of her soft T-shirt. She rocked against him, totally turned on, and Cass didn't know if he could even make it out of this bar before he had to have her.

He slid his hands up under her T-shirt on her sides. Her skin was hot and smooth, and he could feel her muscles flexing as she slid her crotch forward, just a little move that put her pussy right over his cock. Two pair of jeans couldn't disguise how hot she was, how perfect a fit they'd be when they fucked.

“You're killing me, babe,” he said softly, sliding one hand along her lower back to dip his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. She moaned and moved away from Beau to kiss Cass. He didn't argue. Just opened his mouth and let her take what she wanted. He pulled her hips in and moved his, pumping his dick into that hot crevice she had pressed tight against him. She gasped into his mouth and he smiled.

Beau moved his chair closer and Cass felt his hand slip up under the back of Marian's T-shirt, skimming along the top of his hand before going higher. Marian broke their kiss briefly a second later as she made a breathy little surprised sound. Then Cass felt Beau's hand wedge in between him and Marian and he looked down. Beau had his hand under her shirt in the front now, and Cass could see the moment he cupped her breast in his hand. He could tell that Beau had undone her bra. Marian sighed and moaned, her head back, eyes closed. Cass kissed her jaw and then looked back down to what Beau was doing. Beau pinched her nipple and Marian moaned and humped against Cass.

“Take it out of here, guys,” Tyler said in a low voice. Cass turned to see the quarterback watching them with interest. “I like a good show, but she's not going to be happy if this ends up on YouTube.”

Tyler's comment was like a splash of cold water. Beau yanked his hand out of her shirt and then quickly redid her bra. Cass eased her back in his lap.

“How about we take you home?” he asked Marian gently. Now that he was looking closely at her eyes, he could tell she was pretty drunk. Thank God for interfering quarterbacks.

“Home?” she said, smiling. “I like your house made of wood.”

Beau chuckled. “Just don't blow it down, sweetheart.” He and Cass exchanged a look, and Cass could tell that she had the power to destroy them both, everything they were trying to build here in Birmingham, if she didn't accept the kind of love they had to offer. They could walk away from the risk, but they wouldn't. Neither man was the type to give up without a fight.

Marian woke up disoriented. Her mouth felt like it had grown fur overnight. She cracked her eyes open and the sunlight was an assault on her senses. She groaned and rolled over. She didn't remember her laundry detergent smelling so good.

“She's awake,” a man said, and the bed moved.

She bolted right up at that and scrambled off the bed. When she looked around she didn't recognize a thing, and panic had her heart beating so fast she felt light-headed, as if she might pass out.

“Whoa, there,” a familiar voice said. “Settle down. It's just me and Beau.”

Marian pressed her hand to her chest. “Do not do that!” she yelled. “Ever!” She made a conscious effort to slow her breathing. “Where am I?”

“You passed out in the truck on the way home and we didn't think it was safe to leave you alone at your house. We weren't sure exactly how drunk you were, beyond pretty drunk.” Beau sounded calm and logical. She resented the hell out of him at that moment. She turned to look at him and he shrugged. He was wearing basketball shorts. Just shorts. His tattoos stood out on his neck and arms amid a sea of copper skin and hard muscles. “People can slip and fall and hurt themselves when they're drunk. Or choke on their own vomit.”

She grimaced and looked away from him, taking another look around the room. It was a huge bedroom with a big fireplace, complete with an ornate marble mantel. One wall was all windows. No wonder the light had nearly blinded her. The bed was at least a king, maybe even bigger. That had to be special order. The sheets were plain white. Cass was casually lying in the bed, the sheet pulled up over his waist as he leaned back against the brown leather headboard. He was the very picture of temptation. “Did I sleep there?” she pointed next to him.

“Yep,” he said with a grin. “You snore.”

“You do,” Beau agreed. He pointed to the other side of the bed. “I slept there.”

“I know,” she said, trying not to think too hard about being sandwiched between them. “When I'm drunk, I do.” At that Cass frowned.

“How often are you drunk?” he asked.

She snorted. “About once every five or ten years.” She ran her hands through her hair, which was a mess of tangles. “I need a bathroom.”

Beau chuckled. “Luckily we have those.” He pointed to one side of the bedroom. “Big one right there.”

“And a toothbrush,” she begged. “Please.”

“Middle drawer,” Cass said. “Beau has a thing for new toothbrushes. He buys them in bulk.”

Beau was nodding at Marian. “I understand the need.” It took Marian a few seconds to process that he was talking about his days with alcohol and drugs. He'd had fur mouth before, plenty of times, she'd bet.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, and escaped.

She leaned back against the bathroom door for a moment after she'd closed it. It was as ornate and gorgeous as the rest of the house. Like a five-star hotel. Her knees were weak. She'd deliberately not asked what had happened last night. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know, but she was sure she couldn't deal with it until she'd combed her hair and brushed her teeth. It wasn't until she went to pee that she realized she wasn't wearing anything except her panties and her old, faded T-shirt. Even her bra was gone. “Oh, God,” she moaned quietly. “What have I done?”

As she stood there in front of the mirror trying to untangle her hair with a tiny, little men's comb, she gave herself a pep talk. “No matter what you did last night,” she told herself, “today is a new day. Start as you mean to go on. Act as if everything is fine and soon it will be.” They were words she'd muttered to herself on many mornings in the past. They didn't help as much today. The problem was that she wasn't entirely sure how she meant to go on, so how was she supposed to know how to start?

She found the stash of toothbrushes in the drawer. Cass wasn't kidding. There were at least twenty new ones in there, still in their packaging. She held her hair out of the way—no scrunchies here—while she brushed her teeth, continuing the pep talk in her head. Actually, it was more like rationalizing. She had a vague memory of what had happened at the bar. She'd been a drunken slut and made out with Cass and Beau right there for everyone to see. So problem one crossed off. Everyone already knew they were having sex. Or thought they were. Too late to hide anything. Which brought up the question: Did she want to hide it? Was she embarrassed about wanting Cass and Beau? Answer: no. That seemed to eliminate another problem.

She finished brushing her teeth and stared at herself. If she wasn't embarrassed and everyone knew, then what was the problem? She wasn't scared of them. She'd faced that hurdle in her office and again at the bar. No fear, just want. “It seems as if you're trying to talk yourself into something,” she whispered to her reflection sternly. “The problem is you're still a coach and they're still players.” That was a big one.

But Tyler had been right last night. There were no rules prohibiting it. Why would there be? There weren't a hell of a lot of female coaches in the league. No one thought it was a rule that had to be written. Trust her to break an unwritten rule, then.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Am I really going to do this?” She sniffed her armpit. Not too bad. No shower necessary. “Yep, I am,” she told her reflection. “Going to do it. Going to have sex. With Cass. And Beau. Yep, right now.” She took a deep breath and turned toward the door.

Beau cracked his knuckles as he paced at the foot of the bed. He looked over at the closed bathroom door every five seconds or so. He couldn't seem to help himself. “What's taking so long?” he asked Cass in a stage whisper. “Do you think she's all right?” She hadn't appeared still drunk to Beau. There were mornings he'd woken up still drunk, so he knew the signs. She had all the symptoms of a helluva hangover, though. Maybe she felt sick? She hadn't thrown up last night. Tequila usually made you throw up.

“I think she's a woman with a hangover who just unexpectedly woke up in someone else's bed,” Cass said calmly. “She's either freaking or brushing her teeth. Take your pick.”

The water was running so Beau chose brushing her teeth. “Should we try to talk about it?” he asked, not sure where to go from there. “Or just let her leave?”

“Hell if I'm gonna just let her leave,” Cass said with a frown. “You know I hate the talking part, but it's a necessary evil. So we talk.”

“I don't want you to scare her away.” Beau looked down at the carpet under his feet and curled his toes into it. It was a rich, thick cream color with caramel swirls all over. Cass had found it online one day when he was bored. He'd ordered eight of them. They covered the hardwood floors in all the rooms. That was Cass. Find something you like and stick with it. Why shop around for something else when you've already found what you like? That sort of logic worked for carpets and sports equipment, but not so much for women. Women like Marian should be romanced, not owned or controlled. Beau wasn't sure Cass understood that, and most of the women they'd been with hadn't helped. They definitely wanted to be owned by Cass Zielinski. “Don't tell her she's staying. Ask her,” Beau suggested. “The talking should go both ways.”

“If you're such an expert, you should do the talking,” Cass countered. He didn't sound angry, and Beau eyed him suspiciously. “I'm serious,” Cass said. “You know I'm not the best at that. I'm trying not to be a big jerk who orders everyone around. I really am. But it comes naturally, so you have to have patience with me.”

Beau crossed his arms and stared at Cass. “Patience? Understanding? That doesn't sound like you.”

Cass gave him a rueful, lopsided grin. “That didn't sound like a compliment.”

“Then it came out wrong,” Beau told him. He sat on the end of the bed. “You know damn well I like you just the way you are.”

“Don't start singing,” Cass said quickly. “No more singing.” They both laughed.

“I'm not asking you to change, Cass,” Beau told him seriously. “Just remember who you're talking to when you speak with Marian. She likes you, too, but she's easily spooked. We agreed to take it slow.”

“Slow sucks,” Cass complained, impatiently running his hands through his hair.

“I like her, Cass,” Beau said quietly. “I like who I am when she's around. She trusts me. She makes me want to earn that.”

“No one's asking you to change, either,” Cass told him.

“I am,” Beau said, staring at the fireplace. “I want to be this new Beau, the one who isn't afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing all the time. The one who feels like he's got a shot at doing something worthwhile. Who maybe, just maybe, could mean something to a woman as incredible as Marian.”

“You mean something to me.” Cass said it in a low, rough voice that made Beau's stomach clench. Were they going to talk about yesterday?

Just then the bathroom door opened and Marian stepped back into the bedroom. She looked nervous, tugging on the hem of her T-shirt. If she thought pulling it down to cover her hips and ass was helping the situation, someone needed to inform her it only pressed the shirt tighter against her breasts and made her tight little nipples jump out. It also gave the illusion she wasn't wearing any panties, which sent his brain off into never-never land.

She cleared her throat and walked over to the bed. “Room in there for one more?” she asked, a little too casually.

“Climb on up,” Cass said, holding out his hand to help her climb over him.

She let go of the T-shirt and took his hand. When the shirt slid up it revealed that she really didn't have any panties on. Beau's heart tripped in his chest and he had trouble pulling air into his lungs as he stared at the little bush of blond curls between her legs. He knew good and well she'd had her panties on last night, because they'd argued about leaving them on. Cass had been in favor of no clothes, of course. Beau thought leaving her a little modesty and dignity was a better idea.

She climbed up and crawled over Cass's legs, her perfect ass in the air. It was toned, and he could see the muscle in her cheek moving as she slowly made her way across the bed. Cass was looking as hard as he was, and the sheet over his crotch now featured a tent. But neither man said or did anything. This was Marian's show.

She sat down with her back against the headboard and bent her knees up to her chest, pulling the T-shirt over her legs, concealing it all. “I sort of thought the no-panties thing would do the trick,” she muttered. “I suppose I'm going to have to ask for it?”

Beau turned and crawled on the bed, coming to rest on all fours right in front of her. Cass reached over and rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers. They were both primed and ready to go, but they weren't the ones who'd put the brakes on before. Did she trust them, or didn't she?

“Hell, yeah,” Cass drawled. His accent in that sexy voice of his made Beau shiver. “You got to ask, sugar.”

Marian sighed and gave Beau a sexy little grin. There was no hesitation as she asked, “Can I have you?” She reached out and ran her fingers over the tat on his neck, down to his chest, stopping to play with his nipple. “Please?” She meant it. It wasn't a ploy to make Cass happy, to use him to get to her ultimate goal. Marian wanted him.

“Just Beau?” Cass asked. He leaned over and began to inch her T-shirt up her legs.

Marian shook her head. “Both. I want you both. Right now.”

“What do you want us both to do?” Beau asked her, watching Cass inch that shirt up. He knew what she wanted. But Cass was right. She had to own it.

“I want you both to fuck me,” Marian said clearly.

Cass pulled the shirt up quickly then, and right over her head, her arms lifting so he could take it off. “Now that's the way to ask to be fucked,” Cass told her.

“Ask like that and you shall receive,” Beau agreed.