Going Deep: Boys of Fall Read online

  Going Deep

  Boys of Fall - book 2

  Cari Quinn

  Contents

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  The Boys of Fall Series

  Red Zone - Mari Carr

  Illegal Motion - Erin Nicholas

  Going Long - Cari Quinn

  Also by Cari Quinn

  About Cari Quinn

  to my mom and Taryn Elliott - you are the pumpkin in my PSL.

  EBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  GOING DEEP

  © 2015 Cari Quinn

  Cover Design: Tibbs Design

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First e-book edition: October 2015

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  ISBN: 978-1-940346-30-4

  1

  Weddings were the complete suck.

  Colt Bennett adjusted his annoying-as-hell tie and sipped his scotch. Oh, he supposed that wasn’t always true. It probably depended on your perspective. This particular wedding was harder on him than he’d expected, although more for ego reasons than because he was harboring a torch for the newly minted bride. Who just happened to be his ex-wife…and now was his sister-in-law.

  Yeah, their family reunions would be a little non-traditional, that was for damn sure.

  But at the root of it, he wanted only the best for his little brother Wade and Charlene. They were certainly better suited than he and Char had been. They’d been divorced for years for a reason, though they maintained a genuine friendship. This wedding wouldn’t change that, even if he’d endured enough speculative glances this evening from his friends and family and the townspeople of small-town Quinn, Texas, to make his head spin.

  At least there was alcohol, right?

  Watching the two of them glow like lightning bugs as they’d shared their first dance at the reception made it impossible for Colt to wish them anything but a lifetime of happiness. It also had sent him right to the open bar, where he’d spent most of the past few hours while the dancing and revelry carried on into the night. Late September in Texas meant sultry breezes and a little bit of sweat sticking the clothes to your back, something he was used to as part owner of his own horse-training business.

  And man, he wished he was out in the pasture right now, his muscles burning as he exercised Sassy or Papa Smurf—Drake’s unfortunate nickname for one of their senior gents. Or better yet, he wished he was getting sweaty for a different reason altogether. What he wouldn’t give to be balls deep in a woman right now. Horizontal or vertical, he wasn’t fussy. The night was young, after all. Too young, and he’d been holding up this bar for hours. He really needed to get his ass moving and maybe dance with someone besides his mother.

  Or his ex-wife, because that hadn’t been awkward.

  Strangely enough, it really hadn’t been. He’d teased Char about her veil messing up her miles of dark hair, and she’d straightened his tie as she had a million times before. There was an ease to their relationship that wouldn’t disappear just because she now wore his little brother’s ring.

  Tomorrow, he would find peace in that fact. He hadn’t screwed up too badly when it came to Char if they could still be friends, right?

  Tonight, he was going to drink.

  “Shot of Crown, please,” Wade said from behind Colt. A second later, his little brother’s hand came down hard on his shoulder. “Hey bro. How are you doing?”

  Not as well as you.

  But Colt’s smile never faltered as he glanced back at Wade. His cheeks were flushed from dancing in the heat, and his eyes were fever-bright. Colt was certain they could’ve dimmed the tiki torches and snuffed out the overhead canopy of lights that surrounded the reception area they’d cordoned off at the Bennett farm on the outskirts of town, and Wade and Char could’ve lit the place from love alone.

  Jealous much?

  “I’m good. Enjoying these fine libations.” Colt shook his now-empty glass of scotch. “How are you? You look good. Happy.”

  “I am.” Wade’s eyes narrowed. “Look, if this is weird for you, Charli and I wouldn’t have any problem with you bailing. You’ve gone above and beyond, man.”

  “No, I haven’t. Going above and beyond would have been opening my eyes years ago to what was right in front of me.” Steeling himself, Colt pivoted the rest of the way to face his little brother. “I want to apologize for that.”

  “Ah Christ, it’s all water under the bridge—”

  Colt held up a hand to stop Wade in his tracks. “No, it’s not. You both lost years back in high school where you could’ve been together, and I hold some responsibility for that. I never got out of my own way long enough to realize you were the best man for her. I’m happy that you both figured it out.”

  Wade slow-blinked at him, cocking his head as if he were judging how much of this was drunk-speak vs. Colt’s true feelings. He did tend to be a bit of a mushy drunk. Some people got angry, he got touchy-feely. But hell, he wasn’t that drunk.

  He knew it, because he’d been trying to get there all damn night.

  “Timing was off,” Wade said finally. “It happens. In my business, it means the difference between a bestselling song and one that’s doomed to be a B-side from now until eternity.”

  Colt smiled, but the reminder of the success his baby bro had found with his singing career was just one more blow in a night full of them. Not that he wasn’t ridiculously proud and thrilled that Wade had made so much of himself. A famous fucking singer, with his own backup band and gold albums to his credit. He’d stumbled a bit sales-wise in recent years, but the album Wade was working on now with some hotshot songwriter out of LA was sure to put him right back on top.

  He hadn’t washed out of the NFL in a matter of years and returned home to lick his wounds, choosing to hide out in a horse pasture all day rather than deal with the looks from people who still wondered what the hell had happened to Quinn’s one-time golden boy.

  His tarnish was shining bright tonight.

  “You’re a lot more philosophical than I would be in your place,” Colt said, raising his hand to the bartender for another drink. Wade had stood by while his older brother impregnated and married the girl he’d loved since high school, though Colt had been oblivious to Wade and Char’s high school feelings.

  Oblivious to way too much, truth be told.

  If Char hadn’t lost their baby after their shotgun wedding, would they all still be standing there today? Or would he and Char have continued on pumping out kids for eternity, existing as friends who happened to be married and nothing more, happy enough but without that spark that made life worth living? Or would she and Wade have somehow found their way to each other anyway?

  Maybe the questions didn’t matter, because
the answers were at the bottom of his glass. He’d find them all eventually. Collect them like sand dollars he could scatter and watch gather at his feet.

  “Cheers,” he said to his silent brother, picking up his refilled glass.

  “Listen, man, why don’t you finish that one and I’ll give you a ride back to the ranch? It’s getting to be that time of night.”

  Colt barked out a laugh, well aware that several heads swiveled their way. They’d probably been expecting a scene all night. He’d hate to disappoint anyone else.

  “What time of night is that? The time when you pour the drunk sod into his own bed?”

  Alone.

  “Nah, it’s a tradition. Remember when you dumped me in bed a million years ago when I got wasted at Uncle Petey’s wedding?”

  “You were sixteen,” Colt said drily. “Not quite the same.”

  “Yeah, and you didn’t want Mom to find out I’d gotten lit at the ceremony. You did me a big favor by cutting me off.”

  Colt swirled his glass. “So what favor will you be doing me? Keeping the rest of the guests from knowing I’m a maudlin jerk who can’t hold his liquor?”

  “You’re holding it just fine.” Wade gave him a steady look and went to wrap his arm around his older brother’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s—”

  Colt shook him off. “No. I’ve got this.”

  Wade gave him an easy smile and held up his hands. “Never said you didn’t.”

  Jesus, he hated being coddled. Or managed. Worse, he hated the idea of Wade not enjoying every damn minute of this night. He’d earned it. Both he and Char had.

  Colt shifted his gaze behind Wade to where couples danced to an old Frank Sinatra standard. His mother had probably suggested it. She loved ol’ Blue Eyes. But in between the swirling pastel dresses and laughing faces, he glimpsed pity. Aimed at him. No one would come right out and say it, but some of the good people of Quinn felt sorry for him. And that was a distraction Wade didn’t need.

  Tonight was supposed to be about him and his new bride—and only them.

  “I’m fine,” Colt said quietly, reaching out to clasp his brother’s forearm. His grip was strong enough that Wade nodded. “But I have an early day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, since I’ve been back helping out Coach and Lorelie, I’ve become intimately reacquainted with the realities of farm life.” He grinned. “Holy shit, I didn’t miss the early wakeup time.”

  It was surprisingly easy for Colt to grin back. “Yeah, that’s because you’re a lazy-ass musician who prefers to sleep half the day.”

  “Truth, brother.”

  They smiled at each other, and for that moment, Colt felt nothing but gratitude that his little brother was back in his life. They’d barely spoken for the better part of a decade, during the time Colt had been married and divorced from Char and Wade had been off making his fortune in Nashville.

  It had taken their high school football coach, Coach Carr, having a heart attack and needing assistance to run his farm for all of their old teammates to return. Plenty of them had stayed in town all along, like Colt—minus his short stint in the NFL—Joel and Char’s older brother Rafe. Others like Wade and Tucker, the team’s star quarterback and NFL standout—nah, that barely stung, not even a little—and Jackson, the team’s running back, had left their lives elsewhere to return to Quinn. And as was the Quinn way, once they were sucked back into town life, they stuck around. All of them were now building their lives here.

  Everyone was building a life, not just treading water as he was. Happy enough, but not passionate anymore. He enjoyed his work, enjoyed being with his friends and family, definitely enjoyed the occasional hookups he had with the snow bunnies and tourists who passed through town. But lately, even that felt hollow. Quinn was too small to hold any serious prospects, at least ones he hadn’t known since childhood or who weren’t already coupled up.

  Except for one particular redhead…

  He pushed that thought away. Paige Wilcox wasn’t anything more than a burr in his backside. She might be as pretty as a picture with a smart mouth to go with it, but she didn’t see him as anything other than Charli’s ex. Just how everyone else in town saw him lately.

  Since his divorce, he’d been riding the fling carousel anyway. He’d wanted anything but long-term material. Now he was wondering if he was ready to consider something a bit more permanent again.

  Hell nah, that was just the alcohol talking.

  He glanced down at his empty glass. Drained it again. Time to go home.

  “I’m going to say goodbye to Mom and Dad and Hol,” Colt said, spying their little sister Hollie doing an awkward two-step with their aunt Bertha. His lips twitched. “Actually, make that save Hol from getting her feet crushed.”

  Wade followed the direction of Colt’s gaze and grinned. “Poor Hol. Aunt B has wrangled a dance with just about everyone here tonight.”

  “Not me.” Colt laughed as he set his glass on the bar and tossed some bills down with it. He’d kept the bartending staff busy tonight. “So, ah, I’ll probably see you out at Coach’s sometime this—” He broke off, grinned. “Stupid me. Forgot the honeymoon part.”

  If Wade had been Colt, he probably would’ve made some off-color remark like, “maybe you have, but I sure haven’t,” but Wade was much more circumspect than that. He only smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we’re heading to Aruba for a week. Can’t spare much more than that, what with Charli’s jobs and with me needing to head out to LA for a bit to finalize the rest of the songs for the album. It’s helped a lot that Gray’s been able to meet me halfway in Quinn a few times, but that’s over with since his wife’s due any day. So it’s my turn to travel.”

  Somehow Colt’s smile remained in place. Weddings and babies, man. They were freaking everywhere. “He’s kind of young to be married with a kid on the way, isn’t he?”

  Colt had been even younger when he’d married Char. That hadn’t exactly turned out awesomely, though his age hadn’t played much of a part.

  “Don’t say that to Gray.” Wade grinned. “His wife Jazz is a modern-day June Cleaver with blue hair.”

  “Yeah, I’d love to see that.” Colt shook his head and pulled his brother in for a quick one-armed hug. “Happy for you, man. Have a great time in Aruba.”

  “Thanks, bro. And uh…maybe you can say goodbye to Charli too, huh?” Wade cleared his throat. “It’s not my place to say, obviously, but I know it would set her a bit easier if—”

  “Will do.” Colt smiled and patted his arm before aiming toward their grimacing sister.

  Halfway there, he caught sight of Char tugging off her heels and tossing them in the grass. When she did a barefoot happy dance, he grinned in spite of himself. “Finally liberated, hmm?”

  She glanced up and laughed guiltily, curling her toes in the grass. “I couldn’t wait anymore. Why do women inflict such torture on themselves?”

  “So men fall hopelessly in love.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Like that brother of mine.”

  She stopped hopping around in the dewy grass and tilted her head, peering at him in that perceptive way she had. “You’re okay.” She said it softly, more statement than question.

  “Yeah. I am.” He really was, just a little knocked off-kilter by all the love in the air.

  Tomorrow he’d be fine. Better than.

  “I’m glad for you,” he added. “Truly. You’re meant for each other.”

  She stepped closer and gripped his forearms, inching up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. You’ve been amazing about all of this.”

  “I love you both. That’s the important thing.” He brushed aside one of her spiral dark curls and smiled. “Besides, now I get an awesome sister-in-law, so not a bad deal all in all.”

  Her lips curved. “Someday you’re going to make some woman a very fine husband, Colton Connor Bennett.”

  But not you.

  “Be happy.” He brushed a kiss over the top of her head and stepped back
. “And don’t forget the sunscreen. Aruba sun is brutal.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” She wiggled her fingers at him in a wave and went back to fiddling with the heels now tipped over in the grass, their shiny white surfaces gleaming in the moonlight. They seemed somehow familiar.

  His throat tightened around the question he nearly asked. Are those the shoes you wore to our wedding? But it didn’t matter, so he swallowed it down and waved back before walking away.

  Hollie was no longer two-stepping with Aunt B, and his parents had disappeared to parts unknown. Many of his other friends had already split. The last ones he’d seen leaving together were Sadie, Joel and Oakley, and they were the types to help close the place down—well, at least Sadie and Oakley were. That meant it was getting late.

  Time to put a period on this day and sleep to get ready for the next.

  Upon reaching the haphazard parking area near the secluded country road that led to his parents’ farm, he shook his head. Jesus, people had parked every which way on the grass. Good luck getting out of there for some of them.

  Not his problem. He had enough to deal with at the moment, like finding his new black pickup truck.

  In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have bought a new vehicle a couple of days before a wedding where he’d fully intended to get plastered. His current state of inebriation probably wasn’t helping his ability to find his black truck in a sea of them. They weren’t exactly rare in Quinn.

  Next time he was getting a purple Prius, for fuck’s sake. At least then he’d be able to find it.

  He tugged out his clicker and aimed into the fleet of dark trucks, hoping he’d get some cosmic help. He was overdue, wasn’t he? But not a fucking blink of headlights to be found. Where the hell was it? He couldn’t hang around and wait for the rest of the guests to clear out.

  A yawn caught him off-guard. He covered his mouth with his hand and cursed as his stupid key fob went flying to the gravel.