Playing Hard to Get(3)

I don’t even think I own a single T-shirt with the eagle blazed across it, though I do have a sweatshirt my parents bought me after I got my acceptance email. I still wear it on occasion, but I’ve definitely never worn it to a football game.

Because I don’t go to football games.

Ever.

Like I can’t seem to help myself, my thoughts drift to Bryan, and I wonder how he’s doing right now. He started college a week before I did and last I saw—after some sneaky social media sleuthing—he’s moved into an apartment off-campus with his precious new girlfriend Clara.

Of course he did.

I shove a book onto the shelf, a little more aggressively than necessary, and then turn and run straight into someone.

A very solid, extremely tall someone. It felt like I ran into a brick wall, I hit him so hard.

“Oh hey.” A deep, rumbling voice says as he reaches out, grabbing hold of my elbows, steadying me after the blow. “You okay? Sorry about that.”

My elbows tingle where the stranger is touching me, and I shake my head, trying to gather my bearings. “I’m fine.” I blink up at him, shock coursing through my blood when I realize who it is.

Knox Maguire himself stands directly in front of me, so close I can smell his cologne, his hands still lightly gripping my arms.

His brows are lowered in concern, his green eyes roaming over me, as if he’s checking to make sure I’m all right. “You sure? You ran right into me. You didn’t hear me say something?”

He said something to me? “Yeah, no. I didn’t know you were standing right there.” I try to take a step back, realizing he’s still got a hold on me, but then he releases my elbows, allowing me to gain some much-needed space. Standing so close to him is a little overwhelming, but I’m not exactly sure why. “I’m okay, though.”

“You promise?” He smiles.

Oh. Shit. He has a nice smile. Straight, white teeth. The faintest dimple denting his right cheek.

“You work here, right?” The smile evaporates, replaced by a no-nonsense expression and tone that tells me he needs some assistance. That’s the only reason he said anything to me. Not because he thinks I’m cute or wants to flirt with me, but because I work here.

Not that I want him to think I’m cute. Or want him to flirt with me. Nope. Not interested. Not. At All.

Nodding, I attempt a smile, trying not to act rattled, though that’s exactly how I feel.

Shaken. To my very core.

Remember how athletes kind of scare me?

This one is the scariest of them all. He’s large and intimidating and handsome and good lord, who allowed a man to smell this good?

“How can I help you?” I ask, shifting into serious customer-service mode.

He scratches his temple, like he’s confused, which is still a good look for him. “I need one of those fancy-ass calculators, and I heard you guys still have a few in stock.”

“You’re right. We do.” I tilt my head, contemplating him. “You can just order it on Amazon, you know? For a lot cheaper price.”

“You turning away business?” He lifts his brows.

“Just being truthful.” I shrug. “And if you have Prime, you should get it fairly fast.”

“Yeah, I’ve got Amazon Prime or whatever, but I uh, need the calculator today.” He rubs the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed. “Class is in two hours. I’m not even close to ready, and the teacher is kind of a hard-ass.”

I have a sneaking suspicion who his professor might be and he’s right: she’s a total hard ass.

“Let me show you where they are.” I wave a hand at him to follow, and he falls into step, trailing behind me as I lead him to the other side of the store, where a display of various calculators is located. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that he’s not scary. Not in the least.

I don’t know why they intimidate me. The football players. Maybe because they’re larger than life? And that sort of thing has always made me want to retreat. I don’t like loud or obnoxious people. They put off an energy I find really…draining. And here’s where I need to get real.

They remind me of my father. Not my stepdad, who’s been the steady male presence in my life the last fifteen years, but my real father. The one who bailed on us and never really bothered trying to see me, especially when I was younger and missing him.

Despite how great Jerry is and how present he’s been in my life, I still feel like there’s a hole in my heart my father used to occupy. I know I shouldn’t miss him but…

I still do.

He was an athlete. A show-off. A bragger. A car salesman even, though there’s nothing wrong with guys who sell cars. My father’s problem? He wanted everyone to pay attention to him, including women.

Especially women.

Guys like him. Guys like Knox Maguire, they revel in that. Female adoration.

And I refuse to fall into that trap. My mother did, and she always told me it was one of the biggest regrets of her life.

“Not that I regret having you, sweetie,” she always reassures me. “I just wish it hadn’t been with your sperm donor.”

She can barely call him my father, which I get.

I do.

My gaze returns to Knox as he wanders around the bookstore, sucking up all the oxygen in the building despite its spacious size. Just having him close is making it hard for me to breathe, and I swear I’m not the type to be starstruck.