The Star (Charleston Condors Book 1)

RILEY WAS IN A damn good mood.

Even the text from his agent—telling him not to turn on EPSN—wasn’t enough to dim his spirits.

He’d woken up in bed cuddled so close to Landry that it was hard to tell where he left off and where the other guy began. It was every teenage fantasy wrapped into one glorious reality. Landry had rolled over, turned off the alarm, then kissed him.

They hadn’t been able to linger in bed—unfortunately, because Riley had definitely noticed he wasn’t the only one interested in lingering between the warm sheets—but it was enough to see Landry grinning at him over the blender. Enough to have him lean over and brush a quick kiss against his lips after he parked at the Condors’ practice facility.

It felt like…well, the beginning of something.

And that particular something was so highly anticipated and so longed for, it felt even bigger than it might’ve otherwise.

The morning meetings had gone well—normally, they’d have Mondays off after a Sunday game—but with the first regular season game coming up in only six days, Coach Kelley had called them all in.

The request hadn’t even felt like an overreaction to any flaws in their play yesterday, but instead a fulfillment of a promise that with hard work and preparation, they might actually be able to take everyone by surprise and be contenders.

Riley was willing to grab that possibility with both hands. Landry, too, because he hadn’t complained once about heading into the practice facility on a Monday morning.

Unlike Carter, who whined the moment they got into the conference room for the weekly offensive game tape breakdown.

“I was really lookin’ forward to sleeping in,” Carter complained as he slouched down further in his chair. “I had real good company, if you get my drift.”

“Oh, we do,” Cole retorted as he took his own seat. “Who’d you pick up?”

“This unbelievably hot chick and her friend.”

“Two women for Carter Maxwell, huh?” Landry teased. “Just like florals for spring. Groundbreaking.” It seemed Landry was in the same kind of good mood as Riley, and even Carter’s regular bullshit couldn’t dampen it.

“Hey,” Carter said, throwing up his hands. “I never said her friend was a girl.”

“Kudos for your dedication to sexual equality,” Cole retorted dryly.

Carter waggled his eyebrows. “I’m an equal opportunity employer.”

“Ew, gross, tell the details to someone who cares,” Riley said. But he could feel the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile.

Apparently, finally sleeping with Landry Banks helped him see the silver lining in just about anything.

Even when Coach Kelley and Coach Oscar came in along with Charlie, and they started breaking down film from the game.

Riley hadn’t done everything right—even if he wasn’t counting the especially stupid mistake he’d made on the Condors’ first drive—but he hadn’t done everything wrong either. There were a lot of positives sprinkled in-between the criticisms and play breakdowns.

When the meeting broke up and he headed towards the cafeteria, Carter was still bragging about the threesome he’d had the night before.

Yeah, but I had sex with Landry last night. Riley almost said the words out loud. Sex. With Landry.

Not only to get him to shut up, but also because, as excited as Carter was about his equal opportunity threesome, Riley knew that no matter what sexual gymnastics Carter had performed the night before, they couldn’t possibly measure up to the awkward handjobs he and Landry had shared on the staircase.

He’d had his share of hot hookups over the years, but nothing could be as good as the way Landry had kissed him, like if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to take another breath.

Like Riley was air and water, and Landry would die if he didn’t get it.

“…and,” Carter continued because he never knew when to shut up, “then she said, well, there’s a hot tub right here, and it doesn’t make sense to let it go unused…”

Riley shot him a look. “Really?” he asked.

Carter shrugged. “She had a good point. Who was I to argue with such unassailable logic?”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket as Carter continued rambling about what had happened in and then out of the hot tub, Riley checked his messages.

Three from his brother.

He nearly rolled his eyes. Didn’t Aidan have a game to prepare for, same as Riley? How did he have so much fucking time on his hands?

A question Riley would ask him if he decided he wanted to talk to him—which he absolutely didn’t.

He already knew what Aidan was going to say. Well, he knew at least one thing he was going to say, and while he wasn’t one hundred percent sure missing the rest of what he’d tell Riley was worth missing the one very predictable complaint, he was ninety-nine point nine percent sure.

The first message read, Didn’t you get my email last night?

The second, sent thirty-four minutes later, said, Are you really gonna ignore me?

And the third, an hour after that: You can pretend it didn’t happen, but it still happened.

Actually, Riley thought, shoving his phone back into his pocket, satisfaction spreading through him at his brother’s obvious annoyance, he could pretend it didn’t happen.

He’d deleted Aidan’s email from last night, hadn’t he? Okay, sure, so it was still in his trash bin, taunting him with its currently unread state, but so far, he hadn’t read it, and he didn’t think he wanted to.

Especially not after getting these text messages.

“You’re distracted,” Carter said with an accusatory tone as they walked into the cafeteria.

Riley sighed. His mind felt like a crowded place these days, and none of the issues cluttering him up felt like ones he wanted to share with Carter. “Maybe your story just wasn’t very interesting,” he teased as he grabbed a tray.

Carter squawked in outrage. “Seriously,” he sputtered.

Riley waved a hand. “Maybe you should try something original for once. The hot tub, really?” How about a staircase?

“You’re two whole rounds behind. I’m so hurt; you weren’t even listening.”

Riley attempted to arrange his features into a sympathetic expression. It was harder than he imagined it would be. “You got something I’m interested in, sure, I’ll listen. But your sex life isn’t one of those things.”

“What about your sex life?” Carter retorted slyly.

Riley picked up a bowl of roasted vegetable and chicken salad, examining it. It looked good—not as good as his, of course, but beggars couldn’t be choosers—and set it on his tray.

“What about my sex life?” Riley said. Trying to keep his tone bland. Not succeeding any more than he had at looking remotely sympathetic to Carter’s outrage.

“You make any headway in corrupting Landry Banks yet?” he asked.

Riley made a face as he took an empty table. He didn’t need Carter sharing his suspicions—especially since they’d turned out to be surprisingly accurate—with anyone else. Not until he knew what he and Landry were doing.

Maybe not even then.

He was still on shaky ground here. It wouldn’t be very hard for the Condors to find a new quarterback, one who wasn’t determined to get involved with their franchise’s tight end—the one with the face gracing all their season tickets.

As much as he desperately wanted Landry and had wanted him for years, he wasn’t going to rock the boat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Riley said.

“So yes, then,” Carter said with satisfaction as he flopped down next to Riley.

“What do you mean, yes, then?” Riley demanded. He hadn’t said anything.

“You had this look on your face. It’s the one I get when you finally fucking throw me the ball,” Carter said. “Like you finally got something you’ve been wanting for a really long time.”

“I throw you the ball plenty.”

“That’s a matter for debate,” Carter said. “But this isn’t. You totally corrupted him.”

“A man kisses you in his own kitchen, you’re hardly the one corrupting him,” Riley said before he could think better of it.

Carter dropped his fork and whooped so loudly that every single person in the whole damn cafeteria turned in their direction.

“Oh my God,” Riley hissed under his breath. “Stop that right now.”

Carter’s eyes were gleaming as he leaned in. “Bet you wish I hadn’t tormented you till you told me.”

“What? Did you even have that threesome?” It suddenly occurred to Riley there was a very good reason—probably more than one—Carter Maxwell had been traded an NFL-high four times. Maybe it was that Carter was a unique and particularly temper-inducing combination of intelligence and, subsequently, painful smugness about it.

“Of course I had that threesome. But you didn’t think I wanted to tell you about it, did you?” Carter grinned. “Oh, you did. Well, I suppose that’s understandable.”

“You’re…”

“Terrible? Awful? The worst?” Carter was still grinning smugly. “I know. But you still told me about you and Landry.”

“I did,” Riley said morosely. He hadn’t meant to. But he was also kind of glad he had. He’d texted Paige, of course, telling her the bare-bones—Yes, you win, he’d told her. We slept together. Literally and figuratively—but because it was a work day for her, he’d not gotten a reply, and the chances were he wouldn’t anytime soon.

And he certainly wouldn’t be telling Aidan anything about it.

Maybe telling Carter wasn’t the end of the world. After all, wasn’t he trying to be friends with Carter?

“Cheer up,” Carter said, patting him on the shoulder with an undeniably shit-eating grin on his face. “Weaker men than you have fallen. So you gonna dish all the details?”

“You mean, am I gonna dish on all the details the way you did? Nope.”

Carter made a face. “Hey, not fair. At least tell me if he’s as hot in bed as he is out of it.”

Riley elbowed him in the side. “Hey, that’s my…” He hesitated. What was Landry to him? He was about to say boyfriend, which was not a word he’d ever been tempted to use, but today it had nearly rolled right off his tongue as easy as anything. But it was bad enough he’d told Carter about them without checking with Landry first, so he definitely wasn’t going to advertise any possible relationship status without going over it with him.

“Your man, huh?”

“He’s something.” Riley hesitated. “I know he isn’t the kind of guy to do this lightly.”

“Especially not swing to the other side, so to speak,” Carter pointed out.

“Yeah, maybe normally, but…you know about his two brothers, right?”

“Logan and Levi? Oh yeah.” Carter grinned wildly. “I was sort of hoping I could notch the set, but I didn’t think that would happen ’til you swooped in and proved not only was it possible, it was easy.”

“Oh my God,” Riley said, rubbing his eyes. “I need brain bleach.”

“Remember I played half a season in Minnesota,” Carter said. “With Logan. Before he got with his boyfriend. Dylan, isn’t it? And Levi? That was at the Super Bowl two years ago.”

“Do they—” Riley almost regretted asking the question as he stabbed salad in his bowl with unnatural force.

“Oh yeah, they know. Levi thought it was funny. Hilarious even. Told me I wouldn’t be able to get the whole set of Banks brothers ‘cause Landry’s straight.” Carter paused. “Guess you took care of that.”

There was nothing Riley could say to that except, “Guess I did.”

A few minutes later, Deacon swung by their table and announced they were doing a little victory celebration at the Pirate’s Booty tonight. “I knew you two would be up for it,” Deacon said wryly. “Especially you, Maxwell.”

“My rep proceeds me,” Carter said. “I’m in.” He glanced over at Riley. “What about you, RiRi? You in? Or are you gonna be busy indulging in a certain someone’s continued sexual exploration?”

“Don’t call me RiRi,” Riley said, annoyed.

Thank God Deacon, like most of the Condors players, ignored three-quarters of the shit that spewed out of Carter’s mouth. “So you’re in?” Deacon questioned.

It would be way too early to say something ridiculous like, I’m in if Landry is—and even worse, there was no way Carter would let that go without making a huge deal out of it.

“I’m in,” Riley said.

“Awesome. It’s disco night,” Deacon said. “So put your dancing shoes on.”

“Yes!” Carter said, fist-pumping in the air.

Deacon shook his head, but as he headed back to his table, Riley could see he was still chuckling.

“Dude,” Carter said as soon as he was out of earshot. “I swore you were going to pull one of those high school moments and ask if Landry was going before you said if you’d join.”

“What, me? Of course not,” Riley blustered. Embarrassment flamed inside him because he’d nearly said exactly that. “I can do things without Landry. We’re…well, we’re…”

“Fucking,” Carter said, biting into an apple with relish. “Totally fucking.”

But Riley already knew they were doing a lot more than that.

Landry didn’t see Riley again until practice.

Told himself that was totally normal.

Understandable, even.

It was a victory Monday, but in only six days, Riley would be starting his first NFL regular season game, and that was a very big deal.

“Hey,” Deacon said as he approached where Landry was standing on the sideline, watching as Charlie and the wide receivers helped Riley warm up his arm.

He shouldn’t be staring; except he couldn’t stop.

He hadn’t been able to stop, not since Riley had pulled off his helmet in Pittsburgh.

“Hey,” Landry said, meeting Deacon’s fist bump. “What’s up?”

Deacon’s gaze followed Landry’s, took in the view of Riley throwing downfield in Carter’s direction as he waved his arms obnoxiously, demanding the ball.

He raised his eyebrow but didn’t say anything. At least about Riley. “You think he got dropped on his head as a child?” he asked casually, clearly referring not to their new quarterback, but to Carter.

“Seems likely,” Landry said cautiously. Not sure why Deacon had chosen this moment when he was probably more obviously crushing than ever, to not tease him about Riley.

“He’s fun, though. Entertaining. Never sure what he’ll say,” Deacon said. “We can use a little of that around here.”

“What was he like last year?”

Deacon considered this for a long moment. “He came in during the middle of the most fucked up season ever. And I’ll give Carter some credit, he realized it immediately. Kept his head down. Caught the ball when we needed him to. But didn’t say a lot. Then he showed up this year, mouth moving a mile a minute, bragging and saying shit, and making everyone laugh, and I realized…” Deacon trailed off.

“Realized what?”

“What a good guy he was because clearly he didn’t want to play for Taylor. Didn’t want to play with him. But he did because he had to.”

“None of you enjoyed it.”

Deacon rocked back on his heels. “Some of us more than others.”

“I know the new owner cleaned house. Coach Kelley, too.”

“Grant did,” Deacon acknowledged.

Landry raised an eyebrow. “Grant?” He’d not heard a single one of the players refer to their new owner by his first name, only by the nickname he’d insisted they all call him, Mr. G.

Deacon flushed. “Oh, well, you know, I was one of the guys who talked to him upfront before he bought the team, so we’re…well, close, I guess. Not close. But…well, you know.”

Landry didn’t know, actually, but what he did realize was Deacon was undeniably uncomfortable. Which…that was interesting.

“Right,” Landry said. Looked like maybe he wasn’t the only one with a crush—though at least his wasn’t hopeless.

Grant Green was notoriously private—and crazy rich—so the fact Landry hadn’t heard he was queer might not mean that he wasn’t.

“Anyway, came over to see if you wanted to come along with us tonight to the Pirate’s Booty,” Deacon said, clearly trying to change the subject. His mouth shifted into a knowing grin. “Riley’s coming.

“Oh?” Landry was trying to play it cool, but he already knew he wasn’t any good at it.

If he was, his gaze wouldn’t still be glued to where Riley was finishing his warmup in the middle of the field.

“And it’s disco night. Don’t want to miss disco night.”

“Can’t have that,” Landry said. “Sure, I’ll come with.”

“You ask him to come to disco night?” Jem asked, popping up next to Landry.

“Of course I did,” Deacon said. “You talk to Beck?”

“Yeah, and he insisted on inviting Rex and Eric,” Jem said, rolling his eyes.

Landry wasn’t sure he’d ever exchanged more than half a dozen words with Rex and Eric, the two starting corners for the Condors, and he wasn’t sure what Deacon or Jem’s issues were with them. “Why’s that a problem?”

“Oh,” Jem said, rolling his eyes, “Deacon here is just ridiculous. He’s sure there’s something off about Rex.”

“Off?”

“Exactly. He can’t tell you what it is, only that it’s going to be a problem.”

“He seems to play pretty well.”

“He’s serviceable,” Deacon said in a hard voice that Landry wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him use before.

Jem smacked him in the shoulder pad. “Be nice,” he chided.

“I could’ve said he totally blew coverage on Nicholson when we played the Piranhas in the playoffs last year. Three fucking times,” Deacon said reproachfully. “There’s just…something. I told Grant about it, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Shocking,” Jem said sarcastically, “that Grant doesn’t do everything you suggest. Especially when it’s just a hunch.”

“Hey, my hunches are pretty damn good most of the time,” Deacon argued.

Landry, who hadn’t quite been able to look away from where Riley was finishing his warmups, saw him wave him over and decided to take the opportunity to exit the conversation. It was definitely one Deacon and Jem had had before, but personally, Landry thought Jem had a point.

Deacon didn’t even know what his problem was—or if Rex even had a problem. What if Deacon had decided on a freaking hunch that he wasn’t worth the contract the Condors had given him? As he jogged over to where Riley was standing, Landry resolved that he’d go out of his way to be nice to Rex tonight.

He liked Deacon, he really did, but his attitude towards the corner was more than a little unfair.

“Do your magic, man,” Carter told Kieran, the bartender at the Pirate’s Booty, waving in the direction of Rex and Eric, who were looking around the bar like they’d suddenly been transported to an alien planet.

“It’s not magic,” Kieran said, laughing. “But sure, come on over, guys. I’ll grab you a drink.”

Landry had already gotten his drink—the same thing Kieran had made him last time. “You’re not so adventurous,” Kieran had teased back when he’d wondered about that.

“You’d be surprised,” Riley had said under his breath, gazing up at him with those same heart-eyes Landry thought he’d see in every dream from here on out.

Rex raised a dark eyebrow. “You aren’t gonna ask me what I want?”

“That’s the magic, man,” Carter insisted. “He just knows what you want.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Eric said, deadpan, “you wanted us to come to a bar where the bartender’s magic and all they play is disco?”

“Yeah,” Carter said excitedly. “Isn’t it awesome?”

It was something, that was for sure.

“I love it,” Riley inserted loyally.

With the revelations of the night before, Landry was beginning to see Riley’s overtures to Carter and their easy way with each other for what they really were—a growing friendship. Truthfully, even Carter’s more obnoxious traits were beginning to grow on Landry.

“It’s definitely…unique,” Rex said.

“That’s the best way to describe us,” Kieran said as he poured different bottles into a large fish bowl. “Unique.”

“You guys were around last year, and you didn’t ever come here?” Landry asked, remembering his promise to be friendlier to the two cornerbacks.

Eric shot him a look. “Nobody really wanted to do much outside of practice last year.”

“No fucking kidding,” Carter chimed in.

It wasn’t just that he’d learned Carter and Riley’s friendship was purely platonic, his opinion of Carter had shifted even further when Deacon had told him about his behavior the year before.

How he clearly hadn’t approved of Tom Taylor and his proclivity for violence but had been forced to work with him, just the same as the rest of them had.

Kieran slid the fishbowl over in Rex and Eric’s direction. “To share,” he clarified. “Y’all do that a lot, right?”

Landry watched as they exchanged glances. “Yeah,” Rex said uneasily. “Yeah, we do.”

“There you go,” Kieran said. “Riley, can I get you anything?”

“Nope, I’m good with water,” Riley said. “Not drinking this week. Important game.”

“It’s against the Falcons,” Rex said. “They won two games last year.”

“Yeah, so did the Piranhas the year before last, and look at what they did the next season,” Riley retorted. “I’m not writing anybody off.”

Eric nodded in approval. “You’re a good kid.”

“Uh-oh,” Carter teased, “don’t call him that.”

Eric looked confused. “Why not?”

“It’s my brother’s favorite nickname for me,” Riley explained. “It’s entirely possible he’s lost track of time and still thinks I’m twelve.”

Carter checked Riley out head to toe with an exaggerated leer. Two days ago, Landry would’ve been pissed off and inexplicably territorial. Now he just took it for what it was—Carter being Carter. “You’re definitely not twelve,” he said.

“Nope,” Riley said. He set his water glass on the bar top. “You wanna go dance, Landry?”

Did he want to dance? With Riley?

Yep—he did. In a bed. With no clothes between them at all.

But he’d take what he could get, which was Riley in a loose blue tank that showed off his biceps and made his eyes glow even bluer and tight jeans that had made his pulse race the first time he’d seen Riley’s ass in them.

“Yeah,” Landry said, and his voice was full of gravel. Probably everyone here knew the truth of what was going on, and he discovered as he took Riley’s hand that he wasn’t sure he cared.

After all, hadn’t Deacon and Jem guessed almost immediately?

You weren’t very subtle. That voice inside him that sounded exactly like Logan reminded him. And who could fucking blame you? Have you seen Riley Flynn?

Oh, he had.

The atrium, which had been empty and dark the last time they came to the Pirate’s Booty, was filled with flashing lights and bodies, all grooving to the best of the seventies.

Riley squeezed his hand. “You okay with this?” he asked, leaning close so Landry could hear him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked.

Riley shot him a look. “If we dance together the way I want to, you know what it could mean,” he said. “Or, if you’re not ready for that, we could dance together like two teammates might. I don’t care. I just want to dance with you.”

“What if I’m not a very good dancer?” Landry joked weakly. He knew what Riley was asking. Maybe he should care more about other people realizing he wasn’t straight, but the truth was, he didn’t give a shit about anyone else’s opinion, and additionally, he felt not an ounce of shame for what he was, no matter what that was.

If that was a guy who was totally into Riley Flynn, then so be it.

But there was another part of him that wondered if maybe he should be giving this more gravity than he was. People had struggled with their sexuality for years, and here he was ready to just accept it.

“I don’t care,” Riley said firmly, and Landry realized he felt the same way.

He didn’t care what he should feel. He only knew what he was feeling.

“Then I don’t either,” Landry said, and Riley must’ve understood because he gripped his hand harder and then tugged him in the direction of the dance floor.

“I was thinking,” Landry murmured as Riley wiggled to the music in a way that gave Landry undeniably weak knees. “I wanted to go back home and dance with you…in bed.”

Riley smirked. “Oh, were you?” He slid closer until his hips were nearly flush with Landry’s. “Feeling pretty sure of yourself, huh?”

Landry slid his hands down Riley’s sides and tugged him even closer, letting himself begin to sway to the disco beat. “Not just sure of me, but sure of you,” he admitted.

He’d never been surer of anyone before. Certainly never a romantic partner.

But Riley made him want to toss all his caution away with both hands and just enjoy the hell out of these new feelings.

“See? You’re a pretty good dancer.” Riley was grinning so hard his dimple popped, and Landry wanted nothing more than to lean down and explore it with his tongue.

Okay, he wanted to explore way more of Riley’s delectable body with his tongue. Their hookup on the stairs had been hot, but next time, he wanted a bed and a lot of light and all the time in the world.

“Pretty good, huh?” Landry teased.

But he’d take that because Riley was more than pretty good, and he’d be happy to embarrass himself seven days out of seven, if he could not just watch Riley move to the music the way he did, all sinuous hips and innate grace, but be close to him while he did it.

“Honestly,” Riley confessed, “you could just stand there, and I’d enjoy myself.”

But Landry had no intention of just standing there.

He tilted his hips and ground them against Riley, the drag of his guy’s body both dirty and delicious.

“Then you gotta go and do that,” Riley grumbled, but he kept moving, too, as one song segued into another, the lights dancing across the crowd.

Landry didn’t know how long they danced together, but he knew by the time Riley pinned him with a hot look and pushed him towards the darkest corner of the atrium, his blood was pumping like lava through his veins, and his cock was rock hard in his jeans.

Riley must’ve been feeling the same because as soon as the darkness enveloped them, no lights interrupting their privacy, he pushed him against the brick wall, and suddenly Landry’s arms were full of him.

For a second, they stared at each other. Riley’s breath was short, his chest rising and falling, and his forehead damp. Landry felt the same desperation surging inside him. His hands shook as he settled them back on Riley’s hips. Dragged him even closer until they were pressed together.

It was undeniable; he’d never wanted another person with the same fiery need he felt for Riley Flynn.

“Shit,” Riley muttered and then kissed him.

It wasn’t the passion tempered by caution and hesitation from the night before. Instead, this kiss was wild, with Riley pushing him and Landry pulling him right along.

A distant voice in the back of his head told him they shouldn’t be making out like this or practically humping each other, like they couldn’t even help themselves in public.

But the voice was too distant, and the pleasure was too immediate, his sense of satisfaction as Riley groaned into his mouth too complete.

He’s just as into this as you are.

“I should’ve known you two would find the darkest corner in this whole damn place.”

Carter’s smug voice was a bucketful of ice-cold water on Landry’s head—and suddenly, that voice, insisting that they shouldn’t be doing this, not here anyway, was screaming loudly.

Riley’s mouth moved off his, but he didn’t step away.

Protecting Landry’s honor and his obviously hard cock from Carter’s view?

His heart melted a little at the thought, even as his arousal decreased from a rousing boil to a mere simmer.

“Carter,” Riley said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

“Bothering you, what else?” Carter teased. “Also, possibly keeping you from an indecency felony. You’re welcome.”

Riley rolled his eyes, but he finally stepped away from Landry—who had to curl his fingers in so he wouldn’t reach out and just take him back. “Seriously?” he said incredulously.

Carter threw his hands up with mock innocence. “Seriously,” he repeated. “Jem wanted to know where you’d gotten to, and I told him you were probably way occupied, but he didn’t want to listen. Guess I was right.”

“Guess you were,” Landry said. His voice was rough as gravel. He could still remember the way Riley had felt against him, the helpless way he’d rubbed his cock against Landry’s thigh. The little groans he’d made in the back of his throat as they’d kissed.

He was a fucking wet dream, and Landry couldn’t wait to strip him down and make him scream. But he wasn’t going to do that in front of Carter. That particular sight would be for his eyes only.

“Anyway,” Carter said. “Jem wanted me to find you ‘cause he and Deacon were taking off. And I found you. Good for me.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Riley grumbled. He turned back to Landry. “You good?”

“Oh, he’s more than good, honey,” Carter retorted before Landry could answer. “But I bet he’d be even better if I hadn’t interrupted you.”

It was exactly what Landry had been thinking, but he wasn’t going to give Carter the satisfaction, so he just nodded.