Full Coverage: Boys of Fall

I
n Texas
, the temperature isn’t all that’s heating up…coming home has never been so hot!

Coach Nicholas Carr was the greatest high school football coach the sleepy little town of Quinn, Texas had ever seen. He led his boys to the state championships year after year. However, only once did the Quinn Titans ever bring home the state title. Quinn locals still insist that high school team was the greatest Texas ever had or ever would see. The exceptional group of athletes went on to do incredible things, bolstered by the qualities their cherished coach had instilled in them.

But when retired Coach Carr suffers a heart attack and risks losing his beloved family ranch, his boys return home, anxious to give back to the man who’d been like a father to all of them.

Little did they know that returning to Quinn meant they’d fall in love—and into bed with strong, sexy women that are their match in every way. Home is definitely where the heart is, and so is the shower, and the wall, and the kitchen table…

Warning: Keep a glass of cold ice water handy to avoid sudden heatstroke—and a change of panties never hurts either.

F
ull Coverage

You can take the boy out of Quinn, Texas, but you can’t take the love for sexy cowgirls out of the boy. Evidently.

Nolan Winters left his hometown after high school, wanting bigger things than Quinn could offer. Years later, he’s a popular journalist, reporting stories that stir him, and also a bestselling author to boot, working on his second book—a biography about one of Texas’ most beloved football coaches, Quinn’s very own Nicholas Carr. Now Nolan’s finding himself home a lot more often. For research. Yeah. That’s the story he’s sticking to. He’s not coming home for sexy, sweet local mechanic, Miranda Doyle. Nope. Not at all.

Randi’s a born-and-bred Quinn girl, more than content to stay there forever. Football, steady work, football, family and friends, football…the small ranching town has everything she needs. And lately, something she wants—Nolan Winters. Never much of an athlete, he’s asked football fanatic Randi for help on the sports details of his new book about Coach. The ins and outs of the game. It isn’t long before Randi would rather help the hot scholar in and out of other things…like her bedroom, and definitely his clothes.

She’s a small-town, C-average ex-cheerleader. He’s a big-city, A-plus bookworm. Their differences could keep their engines running hot…or steer them straight toward a crash and burn.

2
106 Erin Nicholas
. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Digital Edition

ISBN: 978-0-9973662-1-1

Editor: Kelli Collins

Cover artist: Valerie Tibbs

F
our months
ago

E
veryone was so freaking
happy
she thought she might be sick.

Miranda Doyle tipped her beer back and took a long swig. The party was going strong and Randi loved nothing more than a good party. Her favorite people were all here and everyone was dancing, drinking and laughing.

And she wanted to be
anywhere
else.

The party was celebrating the town naming the high school football field after their beloved, longtime coach, Nicholas Carr. Randi loved Coach Carr. He’d been an advisor and confidant for her in the past, just like he had for every other kid even remotely associated with his boys, the football teams of the thirty-some years he’d been coaching. Randi had been the head cheerleader both her junior and senior years, so she’d had time to hang out with Coach. She was thrilled that they’d honored him that way, thrilled that the team had won the big game tonight, and thrilled to see her friends and classmates having such a great time.

She sighed and lifted her heavy hair off the back of her neck. It was a beautiful October night in Texas, but inside the barn filled with people celebrating Coach Nicholas Carr’s long and influential career, it was hot.

Especially when she looked at her best friend Annabelle dancing with her fiancé Jackson, or Lela, who was in the corner with Tucker. Everyone was falling in love. Except for her.

Par for the course.

But it was getting old.

She drained her beer and tried to decide if she wanted another one.

As she was scanning the bottles behind the bar where Sadie and Oakley and Joel were scrambling to keep up with the thirsty partygoers, her eyes went right on past the top-shelf tequila—that she
really
wanted—and to the dance floor, where the new girl was being swung around the hardwood by Nolan Winters.

Quiet, sophisticated, bookworm Nolan Winters. Who was now wearing denim jeans that were clearly several washings past new as they molded to a very nice backside. And front side, for that matter. The blue T-shirt he wore showed off shoulders and a chest that Randi had, in fact, been impressed with before, and his cowboy boots moved through the dance steps like the born-and-bred Quinn boy that he was.

To anyone looking on—and clearly to the new girl, Lacey—Nolan fit right in with the other country boys in the barn, swigging beer and singing along to every country song the band cranked out. But the people who had gone to high school with him knew better.

Nolan had spent most of his time in the library and the tiny office of the school newspaper, rather than at the river drinking beer or skinny dipping. He’d always been quiet, reserved—at least compared to the live-large Quinn boys like Jackson Brady and Tucker Riley and the rest. But it hadn’t been in a shy way or like he didn’t fit in. It had been as though he’d been observing, taking it all in, making notes.

And now he was an award-winning journalist. Go figure.

But as Randi eyed his two-step—and the fit of his jeans—she couldn’t believe it was the same guy.

He’d come into his own, as her mother would say.

She supposed twelve years could do that to a guy. As could accomplishing all his career goals, writing a best-selling book and then getting a huge New York publishing deal for another one. This time he was writing it about Coach Carr and his influence on football, small-town Texas and the boys that had played under him.

She knew he was being flown to New York on a regular basis and had gotten a “scandalous” amount of money as an advance on his book.

She even knew that he’d worn a dark gray pinstriped suit to meet with his new publisher for the first time.

God bless—and curse—the grapevine in Quinn, Texas.

Randi’s mother got her hair done downtown once a month, had coffee at Sally’s diner every Tuesday and Thursday morning, played poker with her friends every Friday night and went to Bible study every Wednesday afternoon.

There was nothing that anyone who had ever lived in Quinn, Texas, could do that Randi wouldn’t hear about.

Though, she could admit, she’d heard just as much about Nolan from her own customers. She was the owner of the town’s only auto repair shop, and one of four mechanics in town. It was rare for the men to know something the ladies didn’t—most of them got the gossip from their wives—but every once in a while they’d repeat a detail the women had left out.

Though Randi had no idea why, details about Nolan stuck in her head, so she knew a lot of things about Nolan Winters that she didn’t really mean to.

But she couldn’t disagree with the assessment that he had come into his own. And, not for the first time, she wondered if she’d come into
her
own yet. That seemed like something someone should know about themselves.

“Two shots of Patron and another Bud Light,” Randi told Sadie.

Sadie gave her a grin as she grabbed the bottle. “I could just make one shot a double.”

Ah, so it was obvious she was drinking alone. “Great. Make them both doubles.”

“Both of them?” Sadie asked, eyebrows up.

“Unless you can make triples.”

Sadie laughed and poured. And emptied the bottle.

Well, even if the damned shot glasses were bigger, she would have been out of luck. Typical. She wanted to get wasted, but there wasn’t enough tequila. Sadie pushed the shots across the makeshift bar and opened her mouth to say something, but someone called out that they were in need of vodka STAT.

“You good?” Sadie asked.

Nope. Lonely, a little horny, and not nearly drunk enough.

“This will help,” Randi said, toasting her with one of the shots. “Go ahead to the vodka emergency.” Randi had been there too.

She looked down at the two shots in her hands and sighed. These would either make tonight a lot better.

Or a lot worse.

But it was the unknown that made her tip the first back and then grab her beer and the other shot as she headed for the back door of the barn and some cooler air.

Bring on the adventure
, she thought. Then giggled. Because this was Quinn. Nothing unexpected ever happened here.

Just the way she liked it.

* * *

N
olan left
Lacey with Annabelle and Jackson. He’d brought her to the party as a favor to his friend, and her boyfriend, Carter Shaw. Carter was the town cop and had needed to make sure that everything in town was settled and safe after the Titans’ big win over Riverbend, but he’d be here soon enough.

And though Lacey was emotional tonight, and Nolan sensed something brewing with her and Carter, he couldn’t ignore that Miranda Doyle had just slipped out the back of the barn. Alone. And at least a little tipsy and probably more like drunk. He couldn’t let her go wandering around in the dark by herself and he definitely couldn’t let her get into her car.

He’d been watching her all night. He guessed he wasn’t the only guy in the room doing so. She was gorgeous, as always. Her dark hair fell nearly to her mid-back, her long legs were bare beneath the hem of the short dress she wore under a fitted denim jacket, and her five-foot-eight was now five-foot-ten with the cowboy boots on her feet.

He was watching her because whenever Randi Doyle was within a city block of him, he couldn’t help it. Everyone else was probably watching her because she didn’t look like the usual Randi. This was going-out Randi. Or Sunday-church Randi. Her hair was down, she had a dress on and was wearing jewelry. A far cry from the dirty overalls, ponytail and work boots she spent most days in, working in her auto repair shop as one of the only mechanics in town.

It was the crazy contrast between the weekday Randi who drank pots of black coffee, swore like a trucker and could put a transmission together faster than anyone in the county, and the sexy country girl who could rock heels and a skirt, that made her so fascinating to most of the men around here.

A girl who was low maintenance enough to get motor oil under her nails and didn’t get offended by locker-room humor but who could wear skirts and boots that made a man think very dirty thoughts while still being perfectly comfortable taking her to meet his mama at Sunday dinner. That was Miranda Magnolia Doyle.

And all of it made Nolan feel pretty smug.

He’d noticed all of this about Randi way back.

Watching Randi Doyle was one of his favorite pastimes. It had certainly made football season go faster for him with her as a cheerleader.

He’d never been that into football, but he’d liked the guys on the team, loved Coach Carr, loved the way football fever swept over the town every fall and united everyone who wore the black and silver. And Randi.

Yes, football had definitely had a few high points for him, in spite of not having one single urge to put on pads and hit the turf himself.

Nolan weaved his way through the crowd. Everyone had turned out, it seemed. Not just because of the big win and the gorgeous fall night but because of Coach. Nolan should be observing the party and taking time to talk to a few people for his new book.

Later. After he checked on Randi.

She’d done one shot and had taken the other and a third beer with her outside. Not to mention she’d been wearing an expression that had looked sad, pissed off and thoughtful all at the same time for the past hour.

Nolan stepped out of the barn into the night. The light from the party spilled out onto the dirt and grass for several feet and the noise was only slightly muted, but it took him a second to acclimate.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness outside of the circle of yellow light and he noticed that Randi wasn’t the only one who had slipped out. There was a cluster of guys off to one side, talking and laughing. They lifted their hands in greeting and he gave them a wave. There were a few couples as well. Some were just talking, others were doing a little more.

When his first scan of the immediate area didn’t reveal Randi anywhere, he rounded the corner of the barn and heard a female moan. He quickly reversed direction.

Finally he saw her. She was several yards from the barn door, perched on the top of the wooden railing that separated the barnyard from the field to the west.

She was looking out over the darkness, twinkling with lightning bugs, and lifting a beer bottle to her lips.

“Randi?”

He said it softly, trying not to startle her. But it didn’t work. She gasped and started to turn, and the combination of the scare, the narrow piece of wood she was sitting on and the tequila apparently all hit at once. He reached her just as she started to pitch forward. He grabbed her by her belt and hauled her back up onto the fence.

For a second she just breathed. Then she twisted her head to look at him. “Holy shit, that was impressive.”

He gave her a grin. “Thank God for cowgirls who wear big-ass belts.”

She laughed. “Didn’t even spill a drop of beer.”

“Amazing,” he said dryly.

“Nolan Winters, what are you doin’ out here?” she asked, squinting at him in the dark.

“Checking on you.”

“On me?” She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”

“Well, I can’t dance with you out here. I went to look for you inside but you’d disappeared.”

No sense in letting her know that he knew every move she’d made since she’d walked into the party. That sounded creepy.

“You wanted to dance with me?”

“Of course.” Who the fuck
wouldn’t
want to dance with her?

“You and Lacey were dancing.”

Was there a twinge of jealousy in her voice? No. Nolan immediately shook his head. There was no way Randi was jealous of another girl dancing with him. There had never been anything between him and Randi, ever, but friendship. If she’d wanted him, she could have had him. For anything. Boyfriend, booty call, slave, minion.

“Lacey and I are just friends,” he told her. “She’s with Carter.”

“Oh, good,” Randi said—then her eyes widened as if she hadn’t meant to say that.

Nolan wasn’t sure he’d ever heard anything better from her.

He was a little embarrassed
now
about how infatuated he’d been with her, and he no longer felt willing to give her a kidney just for a smile, but he was still…enamored. Possibly more so now than ever, in some ways. Because now he knew what he’d been missing as a nerd who liked books better than people.

He still, generally, liked books better than people. But he did
not
like books better than sex.

Definitely not.

And if he had a fantasy girl, it was the one sitting drunkenly on a fence on the outskirts of Quinn, Texas.

For fuck’s sake.

Nolan shook his head. You could take the boy out of the small hick Texas town, but you couldn’t take his love for cowgirls out of the boy. Apparently.

It was something he’d been trying to kick for years.

But sophisticated, polished city chicks just didn’t do it for him.

Girls who wore jeans and used fuck as a noun, verb, adjective and adverb, who liked to get dirty—whether it was good old dirt and naughty in a backseat, or with wrenches and grease—who ate red meat and loved being outside, rain or shine, did it for him. No matter what he did to try to kick the addiction.