Tame: Carter Kids #3 (8 page)

"We really don't know that much about each other," Teagan puffed, jogging alongside me on the deserted sidewalk first thing on Friday morning. "I mean, we knew each other for a few months when we were kids."

Stopping to catch her breath under a streetlamp, she bent over and held her side.

Dawn was breaking, but the darkness still cloaked us in invisibility for a little while longer.

"We're practically strangers."

"We're not strangers, Thorn," I chuckled as I jogged on the spot, waiting for her to catch her breath. "And we definitely weren't strangers last night." Slapping her ass, I jogged backwards, watching her watching me. "Or this morning in the shower."

"Funny," she hissed out as she sprinted to catch up with me. "Noah, your legs are almost the entire length of my body." Rounding a corner, Teagan reached out and caught hold of my hoodie. "I can't keep up with you."

Taking pity on her red-cheeked face, I slowed my pace to a walk.

Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I tucked her into my side.

"I thought you were supposed to be a gym instructor?"

"I thought you were supposed to be a human," she shot back, slapping my ribs with the back of her hand. "This is nice."

"Yeah." It was. Being with her like this reminded me of when we were kids.

God, I was fucking obsessed with her back then.

Putting myself in all types of shitty situations to be with her.

I guess some things never changed.

Her phone binged then, signaling a message, and Teagan bent down and removed it from her sock.

"No wonder you couldn’t run," I commented dryly as I watched her unlock the screen and grin in amusement. "What's so funny?"

"Sean," she chuckled, tapping away happily on the screen. "You remember Sean, right? You met him at the club back in Ireland?"

"Yeah, I remember Sean." Remembering one important detail about his sexual preferences was the only reason I wasn’t burning with jealously right now.

"He wants a picture of you," she chuckled. "Come here." Tugging on my t-shirt, Teagan pulled me to a stop. Reaching up, she attempted to drape her arm over my shoulder as she held her phone out in front of us, snapping several pictures.

"Hey – what are you doing?" I hissed when Thorn grabbed the hem of my t-shirt, raising it up before taking several more pictures.

"What?" she shot back, tone innocent. "He wants to see the goods."

"Perv," I muttered under my breath. Her stomach grumbled loud enough for me to hear. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," she confirmed, wrapping her skinny little arm around my waist. "I usually eat breakfast before exercising."

On the walk back to the hotel we were staying in, Teagan rambled on about the stupidest fucking shit and I hung on every word like the pussy-whipped idiot I was.

"And that's how you make meringue," she explained when we reached the entrance of our hotel. "But you can forget about it if it's a rainy day," she added, tone serious. "It's an old Irish superstition – oh, that and banging doors."

"Really?" I feigned interest as I held the door for her.

I didn't give a flying fuck about meringue.

In fact, I wasn't entirely sure what it even was or why slamming doors and bad weather had anything to do with cooking, but I liked Teagan's voice.

And hearing her talk gave me a weird sense of comfort so I encouraged the conversation. "That's amazing."
You little weirdo
. "Tell me more about that TV show you love so much
." I don't care what you say, just keep talking to me and one of these days I'm going to believe this isn't a dream.
"What was it again?"

Teagan's eyes lit up as we walked through the foyer of the hotel.

"The Walking Dead?" she offered, slipping her small hand into mine. "I have every episode saved on my planner, you know."

"That's the one
." Keep talking. Keep touching my arm. Don't leave me again.

Grinning, Teagan gave me a series by series guide on all aspects of The Walking Dead, leaving no character unturned.

Pulling my hood up, I kept my gaze cast downwards as we made our way to the dining room, praying like hell none of the early risers in the hotel were MFA fans.

I was enjoying this time with her.

I didn't want extra interruptions from the outside world other than the ones waiting for us.

"Over there, Thorn," I said, pulling on her arm when she moved to sit at a table by the window. She looked up at me in confusion and I pointed towards the table where Lucky and they guys were sitting. "It's time to meet the team."

Teagan's eyes landed on the table and I felt her hand stiffen in mine.

"What's the problem?" I asked immediately, feeling like a dick for not mentioning meeting them for breakfast earlier.

"Nothing," she was quick to assure me. Smiling brightly, she said, "Let's eat."

During breakfast, I was faced with the task of getting to know the men closest to my boyfriend. A backroom team that consisted of a group of five people – four of whom were professionally trained to deal with an athlete of Noah's caliber.

There was Quincy Jones, his coach.

Lewis McGowan, head of security, who I'd already had the
pleasure
of meeting.

Beau Brady, the physiotherapist/ nutritional advisor.

Tommy Moyet, head of PR.

And then there was Lucky…

I was actually really starting to warm to Lucky.

Since we'd met, the guy had been nothing by fun and charming. Lucky put me at ease, unlike the other four men sitting around the table.

I wasn't particularly fond of the four lettered swear word that started with C and ended with T, but I had a feeling that Beau Brady was definitely a C U Next Tuesday.

Beau, I had quickly observed, was sly.

It wasn't an attack on his character by stating this.

It was merely a fact.

He had these beady blue eyes that took everything in. I'd met men like Beau before – Ciarán O Reilly anyone? – and I knew that I was going to have to watch my back with that one.

I could practically see the wheels of his brain moving as he watched me converse with Noah from across the table.

He was taking my measure.

In fact, I had a feeling he'd done that before ever meeting me in the flesh.

Quincy, on the other hand, was the opposite of sly.

He was a rude, obnoxious, loud-mouthed old perv with a penchant for the female form.

In the time it had taken me to finish my cereal, I had observed no less than three circumstances where Quincy had overstepped the line with the teenage waitress serving us.

I also found myself biting my tongue every time he reminded us that he was the original Machine – which was every spare chance he got.

I wanted to scream, 'who the hell cares, old man? You're a washed-up fighter riding the coat tails of my boyfriend's success train. Shut your bloody mouth'.

Lewis didn't speak a word throughout breakfast and after numerous attempts at trying to break the ice, I'd given up.

I didn't think Lewis was being intentionally cold towards me. I got the feeling that he was a closed off kind of guy who took his life seriously and job even more serious.

He observed the room in that subtle way only men who'd spent years in the force did.

I felt oddly safe around him.

The worst of them all, and the president of the
I Hate Teagan
Fan-club, was Tommy Moyet.

Every time I made an attempt to speak to Tommy or make conversation with the other guys, he would either shoot me down or plain out ignore me like I wasn't sitting at the table.

I was under no illusions about what Tommy and the men thought of me.

His behavior at breakfast made it perfectly clear that he would tolerate me for Noah's sake, but he didn't trust me, and he liked me even less.

In Tommy Moyet's mind, I was enemy number one.

In my mind, Tommy was a grade-A dick.

The others followed suit and I got the distinct feeling that I had been transported back in time to senior year of high school.

Their distain was both obvious and embarrassing and I knew Noah noticed it too because he kept trying to draw me into conversations with the men.

But the one thing I couldn't fault them on was their devotion to Noah.

They all loved him.

"…You might not care about your career anymore, but I do." Tommy's voice broke through my thoughts and I quickly turned my attention to where he was having a heated discussion with Noah.

I watched Noah's jaw tick as he leaned back in his chair, obviously waiting for Tommy to explain.

"The annual MFA benefit gala?" Tommy tossed his napkin on the table and let out a sigh. "It's tonight."

"I know," Noah muttered, scratching his head. "I'm not going."

"You're contractually bound to attend, Noah," Tommy replied dryly. "So yes, you are. And I've had your tux dry-cleaned and delivered to your suite." 

"Tux?" I turned and gaped at Noah. "I didn't even know you guys had balls."

"What?" Noah grinned widely. Ducking his face to my ear, he whispered, "What did you think was in your mouth this morning?"

"That's not what I meant." I flushed bright red.

I had aimed to slap his chest, but my traitorous hand decided to stay on the finely sculpted wall of muscle.

"I was talking about dances and…oh forget it." Seeing Noah's amused expression, I reached up and pinched his nipple. "You're have a dirty mind."

"Learned from the best," Noah shot back with a smirk as he rubbed his pectoral. His focus was entirely on me and I felt everyone around us disappear.

"You're a little kinky, aren't you, Thorn?" he added. "Pinching nipples? If you want me to return the favor, you only have to ask."

"I'll remind you that I was wholesome and pure before you corrupted me with that…" I paused, racking my brain for a response. "Snake between your legs."

It was pathetic, but it was the best I could come up with. Noah confounded me. I couldn't think clearly when his face was mere inches from mine.

"I wish you had mentioned this ball thing earlier," I groaned. "I have nothing to wear."

Noah shrugged sheepishly. "I was kind of planning on blowing it off. But you heard Tommy.
I'm contractually bound to attend
." Noah pulled a face at his friend. "I fucking hate tuxedos."

Noah in a tux?

My eyes lit up in delight. "We are definitely going."

"It's going to be boring as hell," he warned me. "Full of inedible food and people who talk like they've swallowed dictionaries."

"And yet none of those people are the number one contender for the heavyweight title." Reaching over, I mussed his hair. "You are
Noah Messina
. You don't need to swallow any damn dictionary." Grinning, I added, "You can let your guns do the talking for you."

"Funny."

"Seriously though, I have nothing suitable for a ball."

"I had a dress sent up to your room for Teagan as well," Tommy announced, shocking the hell out of me.  "I gathered Noah would be taking you as his date."

"You did?" My brows shot up in surprise. "Wow. Thanks, Tommy."

"It white," he added in a petulant tone, like the color white would upset me. Shrugging, he added, "should fit you," before turning to speak to Quincy.

"Well, now I can't wait for tonight," Noah whispered into my ear, drawing me back to him.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It will be a preview," Noah teased, trailing his fingers over my shoulder bone. "Dancing with you in a white dress."

I threw my head back and laughed.

"What? You want to marry me now, is that it?"

I had expected Noah to get embarrassed.

I taunted him for that sole purpose.

I hadn't anticipated his response.

"I
will
marry you."

My heart stopped.

My jaw fell open.

Shaking my head, I looked up at his face and managed to squeeze out, "Noah Messina, are you proposing to me?" 

"Teagan Connolly," Noah shot back with a knowing smirk. "When I do propose to you," he rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb and sighed in contentment, "you won't have to ask me to confirm it."