Jock Row (Jock Hard #1)(61)

Rowdy’s face scrunches up at the mention of snow. “What about next weekend, like, Friday?”

“Hanging out with some friends who are home. What about you?”

He repositions himself on his bed, bending an arm and resting it behind his head to prop himself up, my eyes roaming to his armpit—good lord, even his damn armpit is sexy with its patch of light brown hair.

The cords in his thick neck strain, and I get a semi-decent shot of his chest. I was right, it does have a smattering of hair…

“…so that’s what they’re doing this year instead of staying in town,” he’s saying as he moves the phone an inch and I get a clear shot of the television in the corner.

I didn’t hear a word of anything he just said.

Too busy staring at his sleek skin and brown hair and into his green eyes.

“I…um, can you please repeat that? Was that a question?”

He smirks. “Something distracting you, Scarlett?” Flexes his pecs and biceps. Even his collarbone is mouthwatering.

“I was telling you my parents decided to head out of town—they’re taking a short cruise.”

“Wait.” I sit up. “They’re leaving you home alone for the holidays? That’s so sad! And so very Home Alone of them.”

He is unperturbed, yawning. “My dad’s friend hooked them up with a killer deal. He works for the cruise line in their food service division, so I’ll be home alone, but hopefully not for long.”

“Don’t tell me—you’re going to throw a kegger while they’re gone.”

He doesn’t respond right away, instead staring through the phone into my eyes until he has my full attention. Green eyes, black sooty lashes.

“Come to Florida.”

“I’m sorry?” Surely I must have misunderstood him.

“Pack a bag and come down.” He sucks on his bottom lip, and it glistens when he’s done, damn his sexy face. “Come see me. Please.”

I emit a weak little laugh, my stomach dipping into a clumsy curtsey.

“Rowdy, that’s crazy. I can’t up and fly myself to Florida.”

“Why not?

“Because…because it’s crazy!” Is it? Spontaneous and fun and adventurous, that’s what it is.

My heart speeds up, warming to the idea. Wanting to say yes but not wanting to appear too eager. Florida! With Sterling.

Nope. No. I can’t do it, it’s nuts.

“Why is that crazy? I want to see you—this vacation is too fucking long and it’s total bullshit.”

I can’t help laughing, even though he’s being serious.

Because he is being serious.

Hope and excitement and disbelief spear my heart like a thousand arrows.

“I checked flights,” he rambles quickly before I can interrupt. “They’re cheap right now because it’s so close to the departure date.”

He already checked on flights?

“Even so…” I sound weak—so so weak.

He’s stretched out now across his pillows, arm still above his head, bicep still bulging. Eyes mischievous.

“Coral reefs, Scarlett. Sand. Ocean life.”

I scrunch up my face; he’s not fighting fair anymore.

“Okay, now you’re just being mean. How close are you to the ocean if we had to drive?”

“Tallahasse to the coast? An hour. I promise I’ll take you snorkeling even if the beach is shitty.”

I sit up, mind racing. “Wait, you were being serious? You drove an hour to pick seashells?”

“Yes.” He’s impatient now. “Can you focus on the trip here?”

I press on my stomach to quiet the nerves. It rolls and protests expectantly. “Rowdy, why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I’m a selfish asshole and I want to see you.”

The heart inside my chest goes from constricting to thumping wildly with excitement and happiness and a whole list of other things I will categorize later when I don’t feel like hurling my guts out from nerves.

“Sterling…”

Jeez, what would my parents say if I hightailed it down to Florida? Not that I’d ask them for money to buy a ticket, but still—I’m twenty-one. Going to see a guy on break is insane, right? Would my dad let me do it?

You don’t need permission, Scarlett, you’re an adult…

“You know you want to. I can tell you’re thinking about it.” He lowers his voice, and it’s soft and silky. “I know you are.

“Well of course I want to! Who in their right mind wouldn’t?!” But just because I want it doesn’t mean I can do it.

Can’t I?

“Before you flat-out tell me no, would you do me a favor and at least talk to your parents? Be spontaneous with me, Scarlett.”

Be spontaneous with me.

Nevertheless, I huff. “Peer pressure isn’t going to work on me Sterling Wade.” My chin goes up. “Besides, I’m an adult—my parents stopped bossing me around when they started making me pay rent.”

That’s right: you don’t need permission, you’re an adult.

“Then what’s stopping you from saying yes?”

I stare at him through one eye, squeezing the other one shut dubiously.