The Builder. Grayson Reyes-Cole

The Builder - Grayson Reyes-Cole


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      “Including Dane. You’re going to have to face it, Devon. You’re stuck with me for the rest of the season.” She took a tentative step toward him again. “Right now, you need to get ready for practice. I don’t care how late we get there,” Jada said firmly.

      “I don’t think so,” Devon returned in a soft, mesmerizing tone that seemed to crawl all over her skin.

      Hell, it seemed to crawl right inside her. A heat wave weakened her knees. A hum sang softly in her ears. She licked her lips, not sure what had happened.

      She shook her head. Her eyes narrowed with determination. She tried to sound tough but wasn’t sure she managed it when she found herself staring at his body once more and feeling her own limbs start to melt. Jade turned on her heel and walked out of his bedroom. “Put some clothes on.”

      ****

      The fact that Jada Green had the fattest booty he’d seen in a long time was not lost on him. Her tight white t-shirt rode up on her slim waist topping tight jeans and black stiletto boots with silver heels. Her hips were wide, and her butt sat high and firm and luscious. Her thighs were thick, and her chest wasn’t half bad either. Her very, very short hair enhanced the silhouette of a body not to be believed. Damn, she was the right kind of thick! Devon thought of her bent over in front of him, curves like a cello waiting for him to... He tried to shake it off, best to think about something

      else or he was going to need a cold shower... Nahh...it was too late to turn back in that department. Maybe he should think of her warm chocolate eyes or her skin, which was the deepest, darkest sienna. Not a good idea either.

      He needed to put some clothes on, walk out there and tell her just what she and Dane could do with their probationary period.

      Well, he’d at least do half that. He glanced in the mirror over his dresser. Yep, his was a very wicked grin.

       Chapter 2

      Devon walked into his living room with a cocky swagger. Literally. A man didn’t have to put clothes on in his own house, did he? If there was anyplace a man could be naked, it was in a place where he paid the mortgage.

      Miss Green had her back turned while she sipped bottled water and stared out the windows of the French doors of the west-facing side of his living room. They displayed a phenomenal view of the mountains and the beautiful sunsets, but were impractical when it came to keeping the living room warm in the winter. They begged to be on the east-facing side, begged for the warmth of an optimistic sunrise. Almost forgetting his guest, he turned to look at the east wall and stroked his chin. He’d do both. He’d keep the sunrise and the sunset. His brother, Aaron, had always liked rooms with a lot of light and color.

      The walls were ivory, but after he installed the second set of French doors, Devon was thinking of painting them a warm red to complement the supple, shining maple floors. Well, currently there was a dirty tan carpet—a tragedy if there ever was one—covering all the floors except the kitchen and bathrooms, but Devon knew what was beneath. He’d done the appraisal himself. Under the carpet waited hardwood—perfect, sturdy, brilliant hardwood. He rubbed his hands together, itching to peel back a piece of the nasty carpet to see the wood. Whenever he thought about renovations, about the potential of a house, he became impatient, ready to get to work. Every project absorbed him almost to the exclusion of—Miss Green! He’d almost forgotten her.

      When she turned around, she let out the most satisfying little gurgle, nearly choking on her water, but Devon was impressed at how quickly she recovered. Apparently, she was used to naked men. She probably had to be, considering all the time she spent wrangling conceited football players, even in the locker rooms. Jada confirmed his theory with her next words.

      “If you think you’re going to intimidate me with your nudity, please know that bigger men than you have tried.”

      It was Devon’s turn to drop his jaw and widen his eyes. That was rude, incredibly rude. He absolutely would not look down.

      Instead, he said, “Miss Green, I’d really like to go back to bed. After I get some sleep, I’d like to rip up my carpet and then take some measurements for new cabinets and drapes.”

      “Drapes?”

      “Cabinets and drapes,” he repeated, his eyes wide. “So why don’t you give me the keys to my house, go back to Dane and give him this message: There’s no need for us to continue with this nonbinding extension, or probation as you call it. There’s no need to worry about me being a loose cannon. There’s no reason for you to continue being my nursemaid. Effective immediately, Miss Green, I’m retiring from the sport of football. Tell Dane he’ll get a letter from my attorney within the next three days making it official.”

      Apparently, something could make the cool Miss Green...well...lose her cool. Her voice was hollow, shaky, when she asked, “What are you talking about?”

      “I need for you to keep up, Miss Green.” Devon leaned against a bookshelf, then leisurely crossed his bare ankles. “I’m quitting. The extension was an understanding, not a binding agreement, as Dane obviously told you.”

      “Are you nuts?”

      “Are you sure you’re a counselor? I’m sure ‘nuts’ ain’t a professional diagnosis.”

      “Are you high?”

      “I think everyone knows I don’t do drugs.”

      It was true. After having an aunt and then a cousin die from an overdose, Devon had been

      a walking public service announcement against drug use.

      Miss Green chewed her lip. Time to switch tactics apparently. “You can’t quit, Devon!” Her voice was all indignation and desperation; the lovely Miss Green was truly distraught.

      So Devon pressed his advantage. He reached down to get her jacket and purse. Then he slapped them into her arms, turned her around and marched her to the front door, being extra careful to not to crush up against her, which he was certain would have been disastrous for them both. “Yes, I can. Cheer up. I’m positive my early retirement releases you of any commitments associated with me. So you can run along now.”

      He opened the door and the frigid air poured into his house and caused gooseflesh to rise over his naked body. He paused for just a second to take in the beautiful vista offered by the Blue Ridge Mountains braced against a pale, near-colorless blue sky.

      “You can’t do this,” Miss Green told him, almost urgently. “Goodbye, Miss Green.” Devon shut the door in her pretty face. That face, that day, would haunt him for years to come.

       Chapter 3

       Effective immediately. Effective immediately? Effective immediately!

      For a full five minutes, Jada stood before the immense estate house gaping at the closed front door. Oh yeah, she was shocked. Had that really just happened? Had the greatest active running back in the league just quit on a whim? Quit in the middle of a record-breaking season? Quit on her watch?

      He couldn’t have.

      He just couldn’t have.

      Jada fiddled with her cellphone. She could call Dane and tell him what had happened, right?

      She’d never failed him before. So he would understand, wouldn’t he? Hell no, he wouldn’t. Dane was going to kill her. Devon McAteer had been to the Pro Bowl for five years running. The man was a multimillion-dollar endorsement magnet who filled the seats in the stadium...any stadium. He was the Barracudas’ number one asset. And, apparently...he was retiring!

      Jada had to take deep breaths. She had to get her blood pressure under control. Her pulse raced. Was this what a heart attack felt like? Or a stroke? Calm down, J, she told herself. This was not her fault, right? Control, control, control. Covering her eyes with


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