Wanting It All: A Naked Men Novel (16 page)

“Close enough.” He couldn’t sit after all. Knox popped off the couch and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Like he was standing on hot coals. Because the thought of doing this to Logan was that physically uncomfortable to him. “Christ, that’s like the number-one, gold-embossed rule in the bro code. You don’t touch your friend’s sister. You especially don’t bang her from behind on a boat!” How did Madison not know this?

This time she dismissed his
absolutely fucking true fact
with an eye roll. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah? Well, we men don’t understand why women have to go to the bathroom in pairs. Each gender has its own mystical code of conduct. You don’t question it. You just accept it.”

“Well, I don’t. Accept it, that is.”

She really was every damn bit as stubborn as him. Knox crossed his arms. “It’s not up to you. It’s up to me to do the right thing.”

“For Pete’s sake. The right thing is topping off that wine and sitting down. Since you’ve had a shock, I’ll even cede the choice of movie to you. This one time.” Madison crawled the length of the couch to slide her hand up the back of his thigh to cup his ass. “Maybe even let you decide which one of us will be on top later.”

Her resiliency shocked Knox. It shouldn’t, though, given all he knew about her. And that resiliency was just another case of her pushing all the right buttons for him. She’d already given him reason to break his own personal No Leftovers dating code. Because, yes, Madison was just that damned wonderful and he wasn’t done enjoying her yet.

Did you leave the beach halfway through a perfect day? Send back a perfectly seared steak after only ten bites? Hell, no. He’d made a promise to himself in that fucking icy cave all those years ago that he wouldn’t skip out on a moment of life’s pleasures.

Yes, Logan was his best friend. The best friend he hadn’t been able to get a proof of life on in two months, but whatever. Logan, the ACSs—they were his priority. They had his loyalty. He’d never knowingly do anything to compromise that. To risk the friendships that were the foundation of his world. That had changed his life, turned it completely around for the better.

Madison rested her head against his hip. She was here. Now. Logan so-the-fuck wasn’t. Which was what made Knox think about bending—not breaking—the bro code.

Did a month-long fling really count? Did he
need
to tell Logan? Not about the boat screwing, of course. Just the generality of dating his sister. Half-sister, which really ought to make it less of a big deal? Because Knox hadn’t set out to break the rule. He’d screwed her in blissful ignorance of the familial relationship. A relationship that Logan might not even know about yet.

Knox stroked Madison’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m going to go ask Jerry how long until dinner. Then get us another bottle of wine.”

Because the truth of the matter was that there was no reason to put a stop to a perfectly planned Saturday night with a willing and beautiful woman. This was living in the moment. Something Logan excelled at.

Madison still wanted to get married, so there was that guillotine already hanging over them. She’d feel the urge to get back to the great husband hunt sooner rather than later. This thing between them would run its course before Logan even returned. Then Knox would be in the clear.

He’d never had to choose between his friends and a woman before. Didn’t intend to start now, either. Because there was no choice. His friends came first. Hell, Madison’s yet-to-be-chosen husband would come first in her life, too. So they’d have a few more laughs, a few more good screws, and they’d be done with each other. Knox wouldn’t have to choose at all.

The ref’s whistle sounded on a foul. Not just a foul. A fucking tackle by the other team that lifted Riley off his feet and into the air. The guy had basically plowed his head into Ry’s gut. Knox jogged over to help him up. “Get the wind knocked out of you?”

Mid-gasp, Riley nodded. Must’ve felt like shit, because he actually let Knox lift him to his feet. Probably should’ve writhed on the ground for a while like those floppers on A.C. Milan. But Ry had better sportsmanship in his pinkie than all those Italians put together.

Knox looked across the Mall. There were six soccer games currently going on in the all-day tournament in the shadow of the Washington Monument. They’d played all the other ten teams over the past couple of months. Knew their shtick, more or less. But the one they got in today’s draw? Nobody had played them before. Or at least not lived to tell about it. Maybe the Australian bastards thought they’d signed up for a rugby tournament, ’cause they were all about the tackles instead of just moving the ball down the field.

Play started again. Knox wiped his dripping forehead with the hem of his jersey and ran back into position. Wondered for maybe the fifth time since the game started twenty minutes ago why any of them thought it’d be fun to do this
outside
in the steaming shithole that was D.C. on the Fourth of July weekend.

Jerry was on the sidelines. Thanks to his football career, short-lived though it was, he’d never had any respect for soccer. But he liked to volunteer for first aid duty at tournaments like this. It was his way to support all of them…even as he hurled insults about how it was a girly sport with no contact. Not today, though. His mouth gaped at the roughness of the opposing team. He’d already patched up three of the ACSs. More were running about with blood still streaming.

The ball was kicked out of bounds. And then a little kid got a hold of it and started kicking it toward the Air and Space Museum. At least it gave them a breather while the ref chased him down. Maybe they’d luck out and the already on-edge Capitol Police would detain the Aussie shithead.

As Knox approached the sideline, Jerry tossed him an icy water bottle. The others were already gathered there, all on the ground. Knox poured the contents over his head. Wordlessly held out a hand to get Jerry to toss him another. “What the hell’s with this team, Griff? They play dirtier than Logan deals poker when we play Ry’s boring NTSB pals.”

“I told you. It’s an international military favor. The Australian Army is here for a joint training exercise
that we do not speak of
”—he pinned each of them with his official lieutenant glare that said the fate of the free world rested on them keeping their mouths shut—“and they needed to blow off some steam. It was suggested in the spirit of unilateral diplomacy that we show them a good time with a few friendly soccer matches.”

“Did anyone give them that spiel? ’Cause all they’re showing us are their cleats in our shins. And thighs. And arms.” Josh brandished a forearm with grass ground into—yup—actual bloody cleat marks.

“I think they know who we are,” Riley said.

“Duh, Australia and America are allies.”

“I mean, they know who
we
are.” Ry dropped his voice even more, leaned into the circle. “The ACSs. Their goalie is our age. I heard him say that this isn’t the first time he’s played Americans in a tournament.”

Knox chucked the empty bottle into the grass hard enough to make it bounce. “Are you kidding me?” Their past just wouldn’t leave them alone. Roosevelt Prep had taken down an Australian team in the semifinals of the La Sfida Internazionale tournament. It’d been the game that propelled them to the finals. A damned decisive four-nil victory.

“Something that happened more than a decade ago is making them launch a full-out assault?” Griff clumsily shifted to a kneel, winced as some cut—probably open and oozing—connected with the ground, and then pushed up to his feet. “I’m calling this off. Right now.”

Riley, usually the voice of calm and cool reason, shook his head. “No way.”

“This is a vendetta.”

“The reason doesn’t matter. The outcome does. If we cry foul, they’ll call us sissies. Worse, we’ll be the ones forced to forfeit. They’re leaving town in a few days, right? Meanwhile, we’ll still be here, playing all our usual teams, who now think we got a group deal on a wussy bone implant.”

It was an excellent point. One that sucked, but couldn’t be disputed. This wasn’t about killing a few hours on a holiday weekend anymore. It was about honor. Fighting for their good name. God, Knox wished Logan were here to help. He’d throw a few dirty kicks himself.

“How is it that the choices we made for two short weeks in the Alps in freaking high school are still determining the course of our lives?”

“As usual, Knox here used way too many words to get the main point across—shit happens,” Josh said succinctly.

Griffin raised an arm, revealing the pit stains on his jersey. “We won’t change our play. Won’t sink to their kangaroo-fucking level. But beef up the defense. And I saw the goalie favor his right ankle earlier. Riley, try to make your on-goal attempts on that side. They think they’ll take down Americans? Playing in the shadow of the fucking Capitol on the Fourth of July? Like hell they will!”

It was a great speech. A good, inspiring,
Get back in there and kick some ass
speech. Knox had to point out the obvious mistake, though. “Griff? It’s only July third.”

“Close enough. The Declaration was written by then. Our founding fathers were sweating their balls off on the third up in Philly, giving Jefferson high fives and butt slaps before getting down to the business of signing. We play for them!”

Knox gestured for Jerry to give Griff another water bottle. He was sounding a little loopy. Verging on heat exhaustion, maybe. “They might be turning us into bloody husks, but at least they haven’t scored yet.”

“Let’s make sure it stays that way,” Josh snarled.

A sharp whistle signaled the ball was back where it belonged. Knox snagged Ry’s shoulder before they broke out of the circle. “Since you think they know who we are, how about we stop hiding from it? Embrace the past. Use it to our advantage.”

“Huh?”

“Verbal intimidation can be as powerful as the physical.” Knox knew this one from personal experience. He’d spent plenty of years being bullied as the class nerd. Raising his voice into a full-on yell, he started the chant of
ACS. ACS. ACS.
The other guys picked it up, along with Jerry, the handful of girls the big guy always attracted, and another team stretching out nearby for the next game.

From the shock and gritted jaws that spread across the Aussie’s tanned and formerly smirking faces, it worked. If they’d only guessed about their opponents before, now they knew. And that certainty sure seemed to freak them the hell out.

That juiced Knox’s legs enough to get him back out there. Running, if not as fast as usual, fast
enough.
Fast enough to snake the ball out from between an Aussies’ legs and haul ass to the goal. He wanted to get close before making an attempt. Closer than usual. Close enough to fake out the goalie and then make him twist onto his bad ankle. Nobody else was down there defending yet, but Knox didn’t want to blow this shot.

He angled his body to broadcast the intentionally wrong aim. Caught the goalie adjusting out of the corner of his eye. Another couple of feet and he’d sink it home.

Something caught Knox in the side. Hard enough, high enough, to toss him through the air like a hacky-sack. He saw a yellow and green jersey. Felt a tremendous thonk as his head hit the metal support for the goal. Then he didn’t see or feel anything else.

Water cascaded over his face. Icy. Awesome. Until it trickled into his nose and got inhaled. Which led to choking. Which led to a stabbing pain that started in Knox’s head but seemed to reach every nerve ending in his body. “Who just tried to waterboard me?” He kept his eyes glued shut because that seemed safer.

Jerry’s voice rumbled in his ear. Like
actually
in his ear, as in wayyyy too much in his personal space. Like he was trying to give him a wet willie. “Dude, how do you feel?”

“I feel like you don’t put out enough to justify almost sticking your tongue in my ear.”

“I was trying to listen for your breath to be sure you were alive.”

Knox bent his arm at the elbow. At least that didn’t hurt. Much. “Perfectly good pulse right here. Better yet, new house rule: next time you want to figure out if I’m alive, you can test the pulse in my ankle. That’s as close as I want you.”

“He’s rambling,” Jerry said, sounding concerned. “Could definitely be a brain injury.”

“That isn’t rambling.” Josh’s voice. Also close. Kneeling-over-him close. “That’s Knox just doing his usual ten words when one will do. And in this case, the word that he should’ve picked was
ouch.
”

Somebody was feeling along his arms and legs. Probably checking for breaks. They sure as hell weren’t being gentle about it. If Knox did have a broken anything, he’d be screwed. “Get your hands off me. I’ve been covered in scrapes and bruises since minute two of this damn game. You’re only making it worse.”

“Can you open your eyes?”

Jerry was full of questions today. Like he thought their roles had reversed and he was suddenly the boss. The piercing intensity of the sun had already made its presence known through Knox’s eyelids. Lifting that thin shield had to be the dumbest idea on the planet. “Why should I?” But then he did think of one reason that was good enough. “Is Logan’s sister here?” Suddenly eager to see her smiling face, Knox slitted open just far enough to peek through his eyelashes.

“Whoa. His brains really are scrambled.” Griffin’s face, sadly, was the one that loomed in the center of his blurred vision.

“Not. My brains are certified genius.” But they sure hurt on the inside. Outside, too, come to think of it. Knox didn’t need his friends poking at him. He needed the woman who was gentle and soothing and sweet. “Can you get her to come?” Darkness was better. He let his eyes drift shut again.

“Keep him talking,” ordered Jerry. “Keep him awake until the ambulance gets here.”

“Who? Who do you want us to get for you, Knox?” Josh asked.

“Logan’s sister.” Damn it. Why wouldn’t the name come to him? “Funny, huh? That we got to know her before Logan did. But this way we can vouch for her. ’Cause she’s awesome. Funny. Up for anything. Sexy as fuck.” Knox opened his eyes again, looking for her. He needed her. She’d make him feel better. Why wasn’t she here? He turned his head, but nausea churned in his gut. Man, if choking on water had hurt his head, puking would probably be a zillion times worse.

Riley loomed on his other side. “Okay, if Logan did have a sister, he probably wouldn’t want you talking about her like that.”

“Yeah. I know. That’s a problem. But she was a secret, so it’s not my fault. Not her fault either. You like her, Ry, don’t you? I mean, you don’t know how righteous her boobs are. Don’t go there at all. But you guys talked about how to build a fire in the snow and she totally got you.”

Ry’s eyes bugged out. Like in a Warner Bros. cartoon. He looked funny. “Wait. You mean Madison?”

Aha! The beautiful blonde with the one-two combination of brains and boobs. The perfect woman for him. “That’s her. She’s my girlfriend. Not a hookup. Not a fling. A genuine keeper.”

“Madison is Logan’s sister?”

“Half-sister.” Knox tried breathing just through his nose. It helped keep the imminent puke-fest at bay. “She swears that makes a difference. I’m hoping it means he’ll only half beat me up when he finds out I screwed her at the Capitol columns.”

Josh elbowed Griffin aside to stick his face in front of Knox’s. “You had sex with Madison at the National Arboretum? You dog!”

“Our own private full-moon walk. We mooned the moon. Well, mostly I did, ’cause I was on top.”

“Forget the play-by-play of sex. Focus, Knox. Logan has a half-sister he doesn’t know about?”

“Madison didn’t know, either, until a few months ago. She came out here to find him. You should’ve seen her face when she saw Logan’s picture in the game room.” Huh. That look of surprise she’d worn was kind of the same exaggerated mask all the guys wore right now. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“Riley, hold his head and neck steady.” Jerry pushed the rest of them out of the way and tipped Knox on his side just in time. That last bottle of water he’d gulped down came back up fast. And the pain was even worse than he’d feared. Bad enough that blissful blackness swam across his eyes for a second. Until a siren about split his skull open with its noise and flashing lights, making him queasy all over again as the ambulance parked right next to him. Guess that was as close as he’d get to the rockets’ red glare this holiday weekend.

“How do you feel?” Griffin asked.

If Knox never heard that question again, it’d be too soon. “Did Jerry tell you to say that? He asked me at least three times on the Mall, a couple more in the ambulance, and four more between my trips to X-ray and the CT scan. Here’s the thing—my answer never changed. Is he really that stupid?”

“More like you really kept passing out that much. Or almost passing out.” Griffin ran his hands up and down the metal rail of the hospital bed. “The guy was just grabbing at straws to keep you talking. Go easy on him.”

“Go easy? I’m thinking of buying him a car. Jerry did awesome under pressure. Kept me from bleeding all over the grass—or worse, getting God knows what germs from the Mall into my scalp lac. Do you think he’d rather have a car or a week’s tutoring with a French chef?”

“I’ll ask. So how do you feel?”

Knox flipped him the bird. Little hard to do with an IV in his hand, but the satisfaction was worth the sting. “Crappy. But conscious, which, while more painful, is apparently an improvement.”

“You seem less…confused.”

“I wasn’t confused before.”

Griffin scratched the top of his head. “That’s what I was afraid you were going to say. This story you told about Logan and Madison being related—it’s true?”