Ohana Legacy by Eden Butler

Author:Eden Butler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Bundle, Eden Butler, Thin Love, romance Louisiana Erotica Second Chance love New Orleans Mystery Death
Publisher: Eden Butler
Published: 2017-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

You didn’t get choices at this place. You got insistence. The staff meddled, they treated us all like celebrities because we dominated on the gridiron. I’d never get used to it no matter how much time I spent on the field.

In my room there was quiet, or at least there was the promise of it. But with that solace comes the eager demands thrown at me with a look, by the nagging tone of my teammates and that constant reminder in my father’s voice that this time in my life will only come once. Dad had lectured long about bonds to be made with the men who’d battle on the field right next to me. He’d sworn those friendships would last a lifetime. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I went back out to join the revelers.

“I’m telling you man, this ain’t some common titty bar.” I hated Trent Marshall’s stupid grin and the loud pitch of his voice over the club music. Earlier tonight, he’d sulked, pissed that Red’s friend hadn’t been interested in him. It was his idea that we all leave the crowd at the campus party.

Trent’s stupid laugh made my eye twitch and I tried to hold back the glare as that laughter kept getting louder. He had sandy brown hair cut scalp short except for a stupid layer of fringe that he’d flip out of his eyes with a toss of his head like he couldn’t bother with a trim or to manage his shaggy bangs with his fingers. No matter how much of an idiot he looked like, Trent wasn’t wrong. Summerland’s Burlesque Review was anything but a strip club. I’d only been there twice before, but each time felt that as soon as we moved behind the mahogany doors, we’d jumped back in time.

Every corner of the club was draped in rich, red textures like it was circus day at the Moulin Rouge. Red velvet draped the walls in fat swags, hardwood floors looked like melted chocolate under the deep, billowy couches. Settees cornered around the round stage in soft, black leather. Even the bite of sweet pipe smoke and very old bourbon added to the character of the place almost as much as the showgirls in their corsets and fishnets, or the aerialists overhead outfitted like glittering elves, swinging from the rafters on trapezes festooned with silks.

Marshall’s obnoxious whistle at the brunette on the stage dancing behind a white fan brought my attention back from the atmosphere and reminded me that I was in the company of a jackass.

Mike Richard, a thick lineman with no neck and more hunting dogs waiting for him back in Mississippi than any one man should have, nudged Marshall, tugging on his shoulder when the idiot got a little too close to the entertainment. “Easy, man. You’ll get us tossed out.” But Marshall didn’t listen to Richard and he continued to wolf-call at the woman on the stage.

Trent was a dick. Since the first day in spring

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