Looking to Score(30)

“This seat taken?”

I looked up from the paper I was writing and smiled. Oakley looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower. His hair was damp, and his face looked freshly shaven. And don’t even get me started on the gray sweatpants he was rocking. If I were brave enough to stare, I could probably see the outline of his team captain.

I had checked his schedule this morning—not because I was a creepy stalker, but because it was my job to know what he was doing at all times—and remembered that practice was cut short this afternoon for some sort of annual team building ritual that happened prior to the first home game.

“Have a seat,” I replied, gesturing to the chair across from me. Oakley dropped a Caesar salad in a plastic container in front of me, along with an apple, fork, and water bottle.

“I brought you dinner because I need your help tonight.”

My stomach growled at the sight of the food, and my love button growled at the sight of Oakley’s ass as he passed by me to sit down. I wanted to tear into the salad and hoover it into my mouth as fast as I possibly could. Instead, I politely thanked Oakley for bringing me something that I would actually eat and opened it with dainty ladylike manners.

I always forgot just how hungry I was until I saw food. Or smelled food. Or heard someone talking about food. After I had taken enough nibbles to be slightly satiated, I remembered that Oakley had just said he needed my help. What did he do now? Or what was he planning to do that he knew he needed my help in advance? I looked over at Oakley and asked with a slight panic in my voice, “What do you need my help with?”

Oakley flashed me a winning grin, complete with adorable dimples, and said, “It’s too quiet in here. The library kind of gives me the creeps. When you’re done eating, let’s take a walk and talk about it.”

“Of course places of knowledge and learning give you the creeps,” I teased, then packed what was left of the salad in my bag and stood up. A walk outside sounded nice, actually.

“I’ll have you know, I’m actually pretty good at school,” Oakley retorted, grabbing the apple in front of me and stealing a bite with a loud crunch before I could pack it away. I watched his jaw work through his food and the steady bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“Your major is Business, right?” I asked once we were outside. The Texas sun was setting, but it was still warm, and I smiled at the buzzing city.

“Yep. I’m going to take over the family business.”

“And what exactly is the family business? I still think it’s weird you don’t want to play professional football. Coach Howard mentioned that there are teams begging for meetings with you.”

Oakley ignored my comment about the scouts and smiled at a pedestrian walking by. “My mom owns fifty flower shops across the country,” he replied. My brows shot up in surprise. I wasn’t expecting that answer. “Mom started her first store here in Austin and just kept growing. My sister loved working with the flowers. Daisy was making arrangements when she was five. She wanted to expand the franchise with more stores and was going to school for Marketing…”

Oakley’s voice trailed off, and more puzzle pieces about this man started to click into place. Did he want to play ball? Was he self-sabotaging his career because he was trying to fulfill his sister’s dreams? I tried to imagine him working in a flower shop and couldn’t quite picture it. I wasn’t the most knowledgeable about football, but he looked so natural on the field.

“Do you know anything about flowers?” I continued lightly. I didn’t want to make it weird or ignore the fact that he was voluntarily talking about his sister. I also didn’t want him to think he couldn’t talk about his sister with me.

“Of course I do. I’m awesome at arranging flowers!” he said with that familiar cockiness I’d come to expect. “But I want to be on the business end of things,” he finished.

“Well, I expect a huge bouquet of the most beautifully arranged flowers when the semester is over. You know, for putting up with your shit,” I teased.

Just as Oakley was about to answer, a big black van pulled up next to us. At first, I thought it was just parking in front of the pizza place we were currently passing, but then the door flung open and three tall muscular guys dressed in all black jumped out. Before I could even react, there were hands covering my mouth and arms all over my body, pulling me into the van. My adrenaline spiked, and I instinctively looked to Oakley for help and to see if he was in trouble too. But no. That ass was laughing. Laughing! He thought it was funny that a group of guys were literally pulling me into a van and I was going to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. If I survived this, I was going to fucking murder him.

“Help!” I screamed. I started thrashing my body as hard as I could manage while two impossibly strong men lifted me off the sidewalk and put me in the van. I reached out for Oakley. Was he in on this? Did he arrange to have me fucking murdered because he was tired of working with me?

I kicked one of the dudes manhandling me in the groin, making him keel over on a groan. “She fucking kicked me in the dick!” His voice sounded oddly familiar.

“Dale?” I squealed.

The van door was locked shut, and I slammed my body against it, determined not to go down without a fight. I was going to end them. I would burn them alive and dance on their graves.