Full Coverage: Boys of Fall Read Online Free Page A

with a near-genius who was into politics and world events and history.
    If he’d wanted to talk transmissions and drag racing and country music, she would have been fine. But he didn’t.
    This damned margarita was taking its time, Randi thought. She could use a little buzz here.
    “Hey, Randi.”
    In spite of everything, his voice made something low and deep tighten inside of her. She lifted her head. She was polite, if nothing else. “Hey, Nolan.”
    “I think you owe me a dance.”
    She blinked at him. A dance. Because they hadn’t danced at Coach’s party. She’d been too busy putting her tongue down his throat and begging him to have sex with her. Basically.
    “Sorry, I’ve probably had too much tequila.”
    The words were out before she really thought about them. But hey, it was him who had decided she’d had too much of the cactus nectar the last time they’d been together. Still, Randi acknowledged that she had trouble controlling her sassiness sometimes. That sassiness had covered up many uncomfortable, self-conscious moments for her over the years and was definitely her fallback.
    But instead of being offended, Nolan’s mouth curled up into a smile. A sexy smile, if she was being honest.
    “I kind of like it when you’ve had too much tequila.”
    So he did know what she was talking about. She lifted an eyebrow. “That’s not how I remember it.”
    “Come dance and I’ll remind you.”
    His hands had seemed big when they’d been on her ass. She remembered that part. And she loved big hands. And guys who would grip her hips or ass with those hands when they were making out.
    Dammit.
    “I’m not really looking for a dance tonight,” she said.
    “What’re you lookin’ for?”
    And there was a little hint of his Texas drawl. That had been distinctly missing from his words since he’d moved to San Antonio. Which was crazy. San Antonio was very much Texas. But Nolan had never had the hard accent a lot of the guys did in Quinn, and he’d “cleaned up” since he’d gone to the city. He rarely wore jeans or boots—Coach’s party had definitely been an exception. He seemed to prefer dress slacks and button-down shirts, sometimes with a jacket, and he hadn’t put a cowboy hat on his head in years.
    According to all the gossip she heard, anyway. Though she had noticed his speech and dress on his visits to Quinn too. And mourned the absence of denim. Blue jeans were always her preference, even over a tuxedo. Though the last time she’d seen one of those on a guy around here was prom, and it wasn’t like those were the best look. The guys looked nervous and uncomfortable in the ill-fitted, hot, cumbersome things.
    Annabelle kicked her under the table. Randi started and realized she’d been staring at Nolan as her thoughts turned. He was simply watching her, that grin in place, letting his question about what she was looking for hang in the air between them.
    What was she looking for? A Quinn boy. Who could make her heart hammer and her stomach flip. A Quinn boy she wanted to dance with. Tequila or not.
    “More tequila,” she told him instead.
    Because he was a Quinn boy who made her heart hammer and her stomach flip. And she wanted to dance with him. But he wasn’t really a Quinn boy. Not anymore. He’d grown up here…but he’d grown beyond Quinn. He wasn’t a small-town kid anymore.
    She was.
    She always would be.
    But for a moment she recognized the emotion in her throat. Wistfulness.
    She loved Quinn, and after twenty nine years here, there wasn’t much for surprises anymore.
    That had to explain her strange and sudden reaction to Nolan. He was a surprise. Or the way he made her feel hot and tingly when she looked at his lips and remembered their kiss was a surprise, anyway.
    “I need to ask you a question,” he said. “Maybe I can buy you the next round, then and we can talk.”
    Talk? Hell no. That was the last thing she wanted to do with Nolan Winters. It was the only time she