Good Boy (WAGs #1)(65)

“Naah. Molly shouldn’t be there. It’s just an ordinary Sunday with the fam.”

“Then why do you need me there?”

I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Because we’re dating. That’s what dating people do. They hang out with each other’s families. The food will be epic. And you told me you always see your family on the weekend. You can see mine instead—it’ll be nice. And since we don’t get back into town until Saturday night, Sunday is your first chance to visit with the Blake Snake, anyway.”

I give an unladylike snort. “The…did you just call your dick the Blake Snake?”

“Well, you haven’t named it yet. Unless we’re going with ‘Do me, Blake! Harder! Yes! Yes! Yes!’”

Even though I’m lying here alone, I have to put my hand over my eyes. His impression of me was frighteningly accurate.

And really, after all the orgasms he’s given me, the least I can do is go to lunch.

So when he says, “See you Sunday, baby,” I hear myself agree.





26 Triple Entendres





Blake


“Do I look like someone who just had sex in the parking lot behind a gas station?”

I give Jess a thorough onceover. Tousled hair—check. Sexed-up flush on her cheeks—check. Beard burn on her neck—check. Oh yeah, that’s what I like to see.

“Naw,” I answer. “You look like my girlfriend.”

Humor dances in her brown eyes. “And just out of curiosity, what does Blake Riley’s girlfriend look like?”

I reach over and tweak one still-hard nipple through her shirt. “Well-fucked.”

Jess groans in frustration. “Okay, pull over at the next gas station so I can use the bathroom to clean myself up.”

“Is that really a risk you’re willing to take, J-Babe? You know what happens when we go to gas stations.”

Hell, I don’t think I can ever pump gas again without thinking about pumping Jess. Seeing her fill up the tank of my Hummer was such a turn-on, I had to take her right there and then. Well, not right there. I had the decency to drive to the deserted lot behind the Petro-Canada before I ravished her.

Now we’re back on the road, making the twenty-minute drive to my folks’ place for lunch. I know she’s nervous about it, because she keeps fidgeting in the passenger seat. Me, I’m looking forward to seeing the fam and eating a home-cooked meal. This last week of road games was exhausting, and I’m sick of hotel room service.

“Just don’t make any inappropriate double entendres when we’re there,” Jess warns as I speed off the highway exit ramp.

“How about triple entendres?”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Single entendres?”

“Also not a thing.”

“Everything’s a thing if you make it a thing,” I disagree.

She sighs. “I’m going to dump you one of these days.”

I cast her my most innocent smile. “No, you’re not.” And my inner Blake—who I like to imagine is holding a tiny hockey stick—does a happy flip because her remark implies that I’ve finally worn her down. We’re dating and she knows it. You can’t dump someone you aren’t dating.

“BLAKEY!” Mom shouts happily when Jess and I enter the house five minutes later. We’d caught her on her way to the dining room, judging by the two aluminum-foil-covered dishes in her hands.

“Hey, Ma.” I glide over to kiss her cheek, then rid her of both casserole dishes. “Lemme help.”

She clicks her tongue in approval. “What a good boy I raised, helping your mother like—JESSICA! I DIDN’T SEE YOU!”

Just like that, Mom abandons me for Jess, who looks a bit stunned as she’s enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. My mom gives killer bear hugs.

“Hi, Mrs. Riley,” Jess says shyly. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m great, honeybunch! Was cooking all morning, and everyone knows that cooking is good for the soul.” Mom fixes Jess with a stern look. “And I don’t EVER want to hear those words leaving your mouth!”

Jess blinks. “What words?”

“Mrs. Riley. Pshaw!” My mom slings an arm around Jess’s shoulders. “You call me Ma or Mama or Annette. ANYTHING ELSE IS UNACCEPTABLE!”

“Noted,” Jess says with a nervous laugh. “Thanks for having me over again, Mrs—Mama. Last time I was here I left in an honest-to-God food coma. I can’t wait for another one.”

My mother’s expression goes bright enough to light the Air Canada Centre. She likes people who like food. So do I.

“You’re going to love everything,” she informs Jess. “PAPA RILEY MADE RIBS!”

“Oooh, sounds awesome.”

Mom turns to me. “Blakey, shut the front door please. We didn’t raise an animal—” Her forehead suddenly creases.

I turn around to see what’s got her all agitated. Through the door I’d left open, I spot a familiar silver Lexus pulling up the drive. The windows are tinted so I can’t see the driver, but… Fucking hell. The Lexus was here the day of Brenna’s baby shower, too.

I slowly turn back to my mother. “Kyle trade in his Beemer for a Lexus?” I ask hopefully.