Scored(13)

His jaw works. “I spoke to let you know I was there, so I wasn’t sneaking up on you.”

This time, I’m the one arching a brow. “Next time, do you mind waiting until you’re standing on the ladder with me, or I don’t know… wait until I’m done with said ladder before scaring me to death?”

Dallas tosses the ice pack on my desk. “I guess you have a point.”

He’s agreeing with me? From my Google snooping, or Snoogling as I like to call it, everything about Dallas screams he is a cocky, confident man who has been known to argue with a referee a time or two. Then again, according to the article I read, Dallas argued with the ref over not throwing a flag for unnecessary roughness due to a player being tackled after the whistle was blown. That kind of behavior, the other player’s, I mean, is considered very poor sportsmanship and worth some sort of penalization.

So maybe he was right to argue… and maybe I’m wrong to assume the worst about him. Even Finley says he’s not that bad, which for her is practically an endorsement.

But not for us to date—I’m not that stupid.

Or am I…?

“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” I ask. Yes, that is a hopeful tone in my voice. I do want to go out with him, try something new, and see what happens. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to ask me out again. That ship has sailed based on his grumpiness.

“Have drinks with me tonight at 451,” he says.

The ice pack I’m holding plops onto his head, and he grunts. “Sorry. Dang it.” I grab the pack and toss it onto my desk, where it slides precariously close to the edge. “Yes, I’d love to have drinks with you. My treat, of course, since I’m the cause of your injury and… you can send me any outstanding bills.”

“Why would I do that? You didn’t make me try to save you, and I sure as hell could have finessed my approach better.”

“Drinks only, then?”

“Appetizers, too. My treat.” His infamous grin curves his lips. “Don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you due to an empty stomach.”

So smooth. I eye him. “You might want to get your head looked at first because I’m pretty sure that alcohol and concussions don’t play nice together.”

He salutes me. “Will do.”

I fist my hands on my hips. “Did you come by here to see me, or to see the event space?”

He bites the unbruised side of his lip. “Would it bother you if I said both?”

My stomach flips at his answer. “No. I like honesty.”

“Then you’re going to love this,” he says with a serious look in his eyes that is in direct opposition of his tone, “because I need you to help me win a bet so a fellow teammate can get some mentoring.”

Intrigued, I reach across my desk and drag my office chair around. The floor is smooth and the feet have wheels, so it’s relatively easy to do. Plus, I’m pretty sure Dallas is checking out my ass right now and I kind of like it.

Plopping down, I cross my legs and lean forward. “Tell me.”

“You might not like it.”

“Do we have to kill anyone?”

His brows shoot up to his hairline. “No, but it’s kind of scary and insulting that you’d go there first.”

“Had to be asked.” I shrug. “Does it involve snakes… or pits?”

“No animals or holes in the ground.”

Oh, thank God. “Do we have to rob a bank?”

He stares at me for a beat before saying, “We don’t have to do anything illegal.”

“Gotcha.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and wink. Why? Because I’m a dork, that’s why. “Do we have to clean a house or a car… cook dinner… find a book or a ring to rule them all? Wear matching t-shirts?”

“Dinner is on the menu, but the rest… no.” He shakes his head, as if he’s trying to clear it of my suggestive questions. “I need to go out with a nice girl so my teammate can get mentoring from our quarterback.”

My stomach drops to the floor. Well, I did say I like honesty. “Is that why you asked me out the first time?”

“Hell no.” He sounds so offended I can’t help but believe him. “I asked you out because I liked the way those pink stickers looked on your tits and the fact you allowed a complete stranger to talk you into being cuffed. Seemed at odds with your blushes and conservative outfit, which meant you were… are the perfect naughty librarian for me.”

My eyes widen and my mouth falls open, then I start laughing. I can’t help it. It’s my nervous reaction go-to. “I did ask.” I exhale. “Okay, so we got that out of the way. What makes you think I’d help you?”

That cocky grin of his returns in full force. “Because you’re interested, no matter what your sister says about dating a guy like me.”

“Who told you I was Finley’s sister?” I ask, perplexed.

“Sam Riley.”

“Who?”

“He’s the guy who needs my—our help.”

“No clue who he is.”

Dallas fixes his green gaze on me. “He sure knew who you were—light hair, blue eyes, and a nice smile.”