“I’m driving.” Mainly because my scholarship doesn’t cover summer expenses like food and lodging. Not that I’m complaining. My parents’ place is only a thirty-minute ride from campus, so I can still use the university football facilities—which are far superior to anything my hometown gym offers—over break.
Besides, I don’t need to get wasted to have a good time.
Of course, I’d be having a better time if I were dancing with Red, her electric-blue eyes locked on mine, her curves hugging my body in all the right places. And the way she told off that Sig without batting an eyelash? That shit had me hard as steel. I resist the urge to turn and find her in the crowded living room. The last thing I want to do is come off like a stalker, but damn I hope she changes her mind about that dance.
I can’t remember the last time a woman captivated me so thoroughly.
Probably never.
Which is why I’m not leaving until I get her name.
“Ready for training camp, Spellman?” Reid, our team captain and star quarterback, asks.
“Ready for a national title,” I shoot back as he sinks a ball in one of the Sigs’ cups. “You?”
“Hell, yeah!” he roars. “We’re going all the way this year. I can feel it.”
Reid and I aren’t close, but he’s got a hell of an arm and he’s going to be a good captain. All the guys on the team respect him. Even those of us on Special Teams, who are used to being left out in the cold when shit goes wrong. I don’t envy Reid the pressure of his position, but being a kicker isn’t much better.
No matter how hard you train, you’re only as good as your last kick.
A few of the other guys join in and we talk football as Reid and Coop decimate the Sigs, along with the next two challengers.
Training camp starts in a week and I’m more than ready to get down to business. It’s been too long since Waverly won a national championship and for those of us who won’t be playing ball professionally, it’s our last chance to be part of something great. Hell, having a shot at a national title was the whole reason I came to Waverly in the first place.
That and a free ride to a college degree.
“We need more beer,” Coop bellows, holding a pitcher upside down, as if to prove it’s empty.
“I’ve got you,” I say, grabbing the pitcher. And if I run into Red on the way to the keg, even better.
I squeeze through the crowd of sweaty bodies, pitcher in hand. The closer I get to the speakers, the greater the vibrations rattling through my body.
Jesus. It’s a wonder these guys haven’t blown out their eardrums.
There’s no sign of Red, and when I get to the keg, it’s kicked. I’m 0-2 and frustration’s burning in my gut when a drunk guy in a SpongeBob toga tells me there’s another keg on the front porch.
Too late to get the girl, but I can still get the beer.
I make my way outside, where it’s about ten degrees cooler. The porch is dark, but I find the keg easily enough. I’m nearly done filling my pitcher when there’s a commotion on the lawn.
“If you idiots don’t give me back my shoes, I swear to God…”
What the hell?
Red?
I abandon the keg and slam the pitcher down on the porch railing.
“Don’t be like that,” a male voice teases. “We’re just playing.”
Molten lava courses through my veins, hot and caustic. I’m down the steps like a shot, scanning the yard for Red.
If those drunk assholes laid one finger on her…
Relief crashes over me like a tidal wave when I spot Red, barefoot in the grass and seemingly unharmed. She’s standing between two Sigs, hands planted on her curvy hips. I watch in disbelief as one of the jackasses tosses a strappy leather sandal to the other like some goddamn game of monkey in the middle.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” I clench and unclench my fists, heart pounding like I’m about to take the field and the game’s on the line.
