CJ: Hi, beautiful. Yes I did.

Beautiful.

I smile and rub at my sleepy eyes.

Me: Why am I meeting you there?

CJ: To celebrate.

To celebrate?

As soon as the question circles my mind, awareness shakes me. My pulse quickens as my thumbs hurry with a response.

Me: You didn’t.

CJ: I did.

I gasp, hand flying up to my mouth. No way. No. way. He couldn’t. It isn’t possible. Fireworks on July fifth?

Me: Are you being serious right now? Am I really going to see fireworks? I don’t believe you.

CJ: Believe it, babe.

I shriek into the silence of the room. My phone nearly slipping out of my hands.

This is why he set my alarm.

Me: OMGGGG I’m getting dressed and leaving RIGHT NOW!

I have to hurry. I cannot miss this.

Tossing my phone on the bed, I rip off my hoodie and tear into the dresser.

After parking my car at the open metal gate that wraps around the stadium seats, I take off running across the track and onto the field.

It’s dark out so the lights are on. Bright white light beaming from above. It illuminates CJ’s truck that's parked dead center and covering up the school logo.

When I’m nearly at mid-field, he stands up in the bed.

“Oh, my God! CJ!” I call out. “What are you doing? Are you even allowed to park out here?”

This has to be illegal. Or at least highly frowned upon.

His mouth is stretched into a big, beautiful grin as he steps to the back of truck, mindful of the blankets he’s spread out.

A pile of them. Pillows too. And wait . . . yep. He has his stereo on. I recognize Sam Hunt.

This is exactly what I asked for.

God, is this seriously happening?

“A guy owes me a favor,” he vaguely explains. “Don’t worry about it. Come on. Let’s get you up here.” He reaches down with one hand, as if he’s going to hoist me up like that.

Ha! Yeah, right.

I gape at him, laughing a little with my hands on my hips. “Uh . . . okay, but if I pull you out of that truck, it’s your own fault.” I take a hold of his hand and wrap my other around his forearm, and then I’m being lifted off the ground without so much as a grunt in exertion. I squeak when my feet hit the bed. “You’re like Thor,” I joke.

CJ chuckles. He grabs my waist and pulls me against him, kissing the top of my head.

“Hi,” I murmur, pushing my hands through his hair and cupping his cheeks. “Is this real?”

I’m waiting to wake up from the best dream of my life.

He smiles down at me, his hands exploring my bottom and squeezing me roughly through my shorts. “It’s what you wanted, right? I told you I’d make it happen.”

He sure did.

“Yeah.” I drag my thumb over his mouth and press, feeling the heat of CJ’s tongue when he opens up and sucks me in. Pure need courses in my blood.

Holy crap, I’m horny.

“So.” I drop my hands and wiggle out of his hold. Another second of ass-grabbing and I might beg CJ to take me home so we can fuck. And I don’t want to miss his surprise. “Oo. What do we have here?” I kick off my Chucks before crawling over the mound of soft blankets to get to the cooler in the corner of the bed. I grip the handle and rattle it. Objects thump against the sides. “Did you bring us coconut treats?” I ask, voice teasing as I peer back at him over my shoulder.

I know I have to be beaming. This is too perfect.

“You were pretty damn specific in your request, remember?” he answers. “Right down to the exact date you wanted this to happen.” He toes off his own sneakers and socks, and it’s then I realize he isn’t wearing his boot. My face must express my concern because CJ is quick to explain, “It’s in the back. It's not like I'm walking around much up here.”

“Oh.” That makes sense. I smile at him, then look up into the dark, starless sky. “When does the show start? Did they tell you?”

“As soon are you’re ready for it.” CJ lifts his brows and digs his phone out of his pocket, waving it at me. “Just say the word, babe. We'll get this party started.”

Excitement pinches in my stomach. Seriously? He’s controlling the fireworks too? I feel like a kid waking up on Christmas day.

“Do it,” I tell him, sitting tall on my knees. “I’m ready. I’m so ready.”

CJ presses a button on his phone and brings it to his ear. “Yeah, hit it,” he says. Three words. That’s it, before he’s disconnecting the call, stowing his phone away and crawling toward me.

I imagine some sniveling wimp on the other end of the line who cooperates with police in exchange for his freedom, and because of CJ’s size and overall badassness, he does what he’s told. No questions asked. Including rounding up leftover fireworks from the fourth and setting them off over the local high school football field.

This is all kinds of crazy.

“Is this legal?” I ask, scooting over to allow for room. I fluff a pillow behind me and press my back against it, then ready one for him.

“Sure.” CJ gives me a wink. “Like I said, a guy owes me a favor.” Our sides touch as the man who makes my heart pound sits down beside me, stretching his legs out. He reaches for the cooler.

“A criminal?” I ask.

His head slowly turns to look at me. “What? No, the coach. I helped him out with the team last year. They sucked. Thanks to me, they went All-state. Not that I’m trying to brag or anything.”