Jock Row (Jock Hard #1)(89)

Her eyes get wide at my mention of our future.

Shit. Too soon?

I want to eat her up, starting with her pretty petite fingers; she has her nails painted bright blue. Then I want to kiss the tip of her pert nose—it gets more pink the longer we stand out here, stalling.

I wiggle my fingers in her direction. “Stick your gloves in my pocket and take my hand.”

She hesitates, slowly sliding off her black mittens one at a time and handing them to me. I shove them in the back pocket of my jeans and reach down to take her hand, lacing our fingers.

We both shiver.

“I’ve got you—I won’t leave your side.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “What exactly do you think is going to happen?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to wander off and steal shit from the fridge.”

“I did not steal from the fridge!” She huffs. “It was unlocked.”

So damn gorgeous, even in a snit.

I twist my torso, leaning down, planting a firm kiss in the middle of her pursed mouth.

“Let’s go.”


Scarlett

From the moment we step into the house, Rowdy is greeted like a celebrity. People shout his name, and it’s loud and distracting and obnoxious, if I’m being honest. I know none of the people approaching him, smacking him on the back like the lost messiah that’s finally come home. Girls touching him even though he’s holding steady to my hand.

To be fair, guys are touching him too—but it’s not the same thing.

He squeezes my hand before letting go, slides it around the curve of my waist, wrapping his arm around me. Pulls me in close. Tucks his massive palm into the back pocket of my jeans like a bad advertisement for an eighties rom-com.

This is our first public appearance as a couple, and I’m both nervous and excited to be here. On his arm. By his side.

Still…

“What…is happening right now?” I laugh, oddly irritated at the spectacle. “Why is everyone…this is so weird.”

“I haven’t been here in weeks, that’s what’s happening right now.” He actually has to holler in my direction so I can hear him. “They’re glad to see me.”

My brows go up.

“I’m their leader, Scarlett,” he says, as if that statement explains everything.

“Their leader has been outside for the past eight weeks.” I roll my eyes. “It’s not like you went anywhere—you were literally thirty feet away this entire time.”

His skin is darker than it was before our vacation, tan skin setting off the green shade of his eyes and the pearly white of his teeth. He must have gotten his hair trimmed today, because it’s short, obviously styled by a professional.

I think about how I’m going to run my fingers through it later.

I ogle him some more, pressing my nose against his shirt to catch a whiff, lids fluttering closed. Mmm, mmm, good.

“Hey man,” Ben, the guy from the first house party—the one who had me kicked out—walks up with his fist raised for a bump.

I struggle not to narrow my eyes, but it’s difficult.

Rowdy accepts it, bumping it back. “What’s up Wilson?”

Ben’s blue eyes appraise me, trying to place me. He knows he’s seen me before, but he’s not sure where. “Are you going to introduce us?”

I step forward, presenting him with my hand like I’m a fine lady about to take tea in Britain, Sterling’s steadfast fingers pressed into the small of my back. “Oh, we’ve met.”

Ben grins, taking my hand, pumping it gently, acting the gentleman. Prick. “I always recognize a gorgeous face.”

“Is that so?” My nude, glossy lips smirk, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out where this badass inner me is coming from. I thought I’d be nervous, coming face to face with Ben.

But I’m not.

Not one little bit.

He can’t have sex with me because I’m taken, and he can’t place me because I’m unrecognizable from the girl he met eight weeks ago. My hair is down, I’m wearing more makeup than usual, and I’m four inches taller—not to mention, no beige sweater.

As a result, Ben does what I’d expect from a guy like him: he goes about ignoring me to speak Rowdy.

Ben shifts his gaze. “What’s up Wade—where the hell have you been? I feel like the only place I’ve seen you is the gym.”

“I’ve been around.” Rowdy laughs. “Mostly on the porch.”

Ben looks down, notices Rowdy’s arm firmly around my waist. Looks at me again, studying me closer.

“The porch? Why?”

“That’s where I met my little dumple puss.” He bends and kisses the top of my head. “That’s a hybrid word I made up,” Rowdy explains to his friend like he’s a relationship expert. “It’s a cross between dumpling and dimple. She loves it.”

He has zero shame.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” Ben reconsiders me with a more critical eye; he knows I’m the reason he hasn’t seen his captain in weeks. “I’m Ben.”

“Scarlett.”

He tilts his head like an animal listening for a sound in the distance, my name processing in his mind; I see the wheels turning like rusty spokes that need oil, chugging along through his brain.