Jock Row (Jock Hard #1)(41)

“It’s not a big deal, but…” Reaching into my coat pocket, I pull out the keychain I found at the store today. It’s a starfish, covered in coral-colored rhinestones, a crappy, cheap keychain, but it reminded me of her, so before I could dwell on it, I tossed it onto the checkout counter along with my bottled water, vegetables, and protein powder.

“I found this for you at the grocery store. Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

Scarlett grins, her dimple the cutest little dent I ever did see, squeezing her eyes shut, long inky lashes resting on a set of smooth cheekbones. “Oh god, I’m scared. What is it?”

“You’re so dramatic. Just hold out your hand.”

Scarlett squeezes her eyes tighter, holding out her palm.

Licks her bottom lip.

It affords me a few moments to study her face under the porch light while she waits. Black inky lashes kissing her smooth, blush-covered cheekbones. Bronze skin. Glossy sapphire lips. Touchable silky hair.

Her eyebrows are full and arched with expectation as she waits for me to set the gift in her palm.

Even as I lay the keychain in her hand, my eyes never leave her face, laying the metal with a delicate clink on her splayed hand, the inexpensive, shiny silver winking in the light. Only when it hits her hand does she crack a lid open.

Looks down at her hand, stares at the trinket, confused.

The tips of my fingers linger on the pads of her palm. “I know it’s stupid, but—”

Her head shakes, cutting me off. “It’s not stupid, Sterling. It’s wonderful.”

She holds it aloft, pinched between two fingers, admiring it, turning it this way and that so the light hits the coral rhinestones at all angles. It sparkles and shines like her eyes and lips.

“It’s a starfish,” I explain, stating the obvious, feeling like a complete idiot. “Because you love the ocean.”

A grin plays at her bottom lip. “I’m in love with it. This is so sweet.”

“I saw it today when I was running errands and it reminded me of you.”

I’m so damn dumb. Like a boy who doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Like I want to tug on her damn braids to get her attention.

The grin she’s trying to contain finally sneaks across her mouth. “Thank you.”

When the wind kicks up, her shoulders shiver, her breath a fine mist in the evening as she studies my present.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I draw my gaze away, dragging it to her bare legs. Painted toes. “You shouldn’t be standing out here—it’s freezing. You’ll get sick again.”

I shouldn’t have asked her to come; it was selfish. I should have met her at home, where it’s warm, let her change into something comfortable and settled in on the couch with her—not waited around and let her get dumped off at the goddamn baseball house.

“It is quite cold tonight, isn’t it?”

And yet she did come to see me, in a dress and heels, to stand on the porch in the cold fall night, knowing there was no chance she was getting inside the house.

For a brief moment, I consider taking her in, walking her through the house on my arm and showing her off. Show everyone what they’ve been missing because they were complete fuckers.

Still…I’m feeling selfish.

“Do you…want to go inside?”

“The house?”

“Yeah. I’ll take you home, but if you want to go inside for a little bit, we can do that, too.”

“Are you saying you’ll take me inside?” Her eyes are huge, disks of astonishment.

“If that’s what you want, we’ll go in and stay a while.”

Her stare is intense, the breeze kicking up her hair as she studies me, lips still parted in surprise. “And ruin a perfectly good evening?” She scoffs, breath kicking up a puff of air. “I don’t think so. Maybe next time.”

My eyes flicker to the empty street. “Then let’s get you home.”

“All right, Rowdy Wade, I’ll let you drive me home.” Brushes a strand of hair behind her ears. “I probably should have gone home first and thrown on some pants, huh? I don’t know what in the world I was thinking.”

A loud banging from inside interrupts, followed by raucous laughter and chanting.

“Jesus,” I groan. “They’re acting like idiots—beer pong tournament and drinking games. We’re not missing out.”

It’s true tonight, and on any given Friday. It’s hot as hell in there, though—she’d be plenty warm in that dress and those heels.

“You don’t think I’d enjoy a beer pong tournament or a drinking game? Shame on you—I’m so good at beer pong it’s stupid.”

I laugh when she winks. So fucking cute.

And pretty.

Really stupid pretty.

“I’m kind of hungry anyway. The restaurant we went to had tiny portions—my chicken was this small.” She makes a circle with her hands, demonstrating the size of her main course. “It was the size of an appetizer—you would have hated it, and then you would have died from starvation.”

“So you went someplace fancy?”

“Real fancy—hence the dress.” She does a little twirl, showing off her legs. “We’ve gone out before break the last two years. It’s kind of a tradition.”