Dane gave a shrug and left the car.Worth a shot.
He walked up his driveway and unlocked his house door. But before he could get inside, he heard a car door slam shut, followed by the rapidclick-clackof heels on pavement.
“Hey! Wait!” Austen yelled as she hurried up his driveway.
“Change your mind?” Dane asked with a cocky grin.
“Ugh, don’t get your hopes up. I just noticed I lost my scarf, okay? I think I left it in your house.”
“Oh,” Dane said as he opened the door. “Okay.”
Chapter 13
Austen
What am I even doing?Austen asked herself as she ran up DeHardt’s driveway.
One simple whisper in her ear was all it took—“Wanna come inside?”—and Austen felt her body respond: a tingle traveled up her spine, and her legs weakened. Her breath grew shallow.
She’d told Johnny and Frederick to wait in the car, that she’d only be a minute. And part of her hoped that was true. Another part of her, though …?
“So where do you think you left your scarf?” the athlete asked as he led her into his house for the second time today.
“I was sitting on your couch when I took it off.”
He really brings the crazy out of me,she told herself as she followed him into the living room.That’s not healthy, and you know it.
DeHardt could lie about the note all he wanted, but Austen knew what that waitress had done. In her younger days, she might have believed DeHardt. But she wasn’t naive anymore; not after high school. She knew perfectly well the lengths a girl would go to steal a man right under your nose—even if it meant throwing awayyearsof friendship for one night only.
No, DeHardt wasn’t her high school boyfriend. But the similarities were close enough. Chad was also a popular jock, though his sport was football. Chad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, either. Did the girls care about that? Nope. They worshiped the ground he walked on. And, like DeHardt, whenever Chad was caught red-handed, he’d just deny, deny, deny.
She understood now why her ‘date’ with DeHardt had left her feeling so crazy. Why his hot-and-cold routine left her insides feeling so turned and twisted. It was familiar, wasn’t it? The feeling that he was somebody very important, that she was lucky just to be in his presence. The constant, niggling insecurities that she wasn’t good enough for him. The way other girls looked at Austen, as if they knew she didn’t deserve him, either. The way those other girls were all too happy to start a cutthroat competition for his attention.
Dating a guy like Chad, or DeHardt, came with the constant pressure of having to be at the top of your game at every moment. Or youknewyou’d lose him.
It was enough to drive a girl mad.
Enough to make her do crazy things.
Like say she’d left her scarf somewhere in his mansion, when she knew perfectly well it was stashed at the bottom of her bag.
No, it wasn’t the foundation of a healthy relationship—butGod, the fireworks, the absoluterushwhen a man like that chooses to be withyou,and not one of the other hundred girls desperately throwing themselves at him.
It was like a drug.
Suddenly, Austen realized that she’d made a mistake in coming here. Figuring out whyshe was attracted to DeHardt was the antidote she needed for her addiction. Because no, this wasn’t healthy, not at all! He brought out the absoluteworstin her. And no, shewasn’tyoung and naive anymore. She knew exactly where this led—immediate gratification now, paid for by disappointment and heartbreak later on down the road.
She watched as DeHardt scoured the living room, turned the sofa cushions over, one by one, until all the hiding spots were exhausted.
“I don’t think it’s in here,” the hockey player said, with a smile that suggested he’d known exactly what she was up to all along. At least he’d played his part well.
She trained her gaze to the floor. As if avoiding his bedroom eyes would make everything go away.
“Strange. Maybe I left it at the bowling alley?” Austen sighed, her gaze locked on the hardwood floor. “Oh well, sorry to bother you. I should get going.”
Before she could head for the door, DeHardt’s hulking frame entered her field of vision. He neared until mere inches separated their bodies. He was so big, so tall and muscular, that his body heat radiated like molten metal in a blast furnace. She desperately tried to look elsewhere, tried to cower, but there was nowhere to run or hide. The scent of his cologne—a dry, earthy green oak moss, a leather-like undertone beneath sweet white rose—crept into her nostrils and filled her senses. The rich scent of him weakened her knees and made her wobble.
Uh oh,Austen thought as her body began to betray her with its pulsing and throbbing in all the deliciously wrong places …
