Scored(3)

“I think you’re in the clear,” he says, his voice rumbly with amusement.

Risking a glance at him, I crumple up the stickers and make sure they go in the trash and not on me. “I’m sorry for accusing you of—”

“Ogling your… stickers?” he supplies.

I nod. “That.”

“Kinda was,” he admits without shame. “The stickers were an excuse to stare longer—although in my defense, I was trying to figure out what they were.”

“I knew it.” I’m not aggravated by him anymore. In fact, the entire situation is funny. I find him… charming.

“I’m Dallas, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, and I’m sorry for being so difficult.” With my free hand, I pinch my bottom lip between my thumb and forefinger, pulling slightly before I realize what I’m doing and let go. “I don’t usually work with the kids or the guest speakers Layton books, but I had to take one for the team today. Maid-of-honor duties.”

“Positional requirements, huh?”

I grab the list from my pocket and show it to him. “It’s number four, right after answer all calls from the bride and before makes out with best man.”

He studies it for a minute. “Have you met the best man?”

“No, but I think this is her attempt to set me up.” I have no idea why I’m telling him this, but I’m certainly enjoying it. “She’s a giver like that.”

“You’re single.” It’s not a question.

Oh, I like smart men who can put two and two together. “Only on date nights.”

“Damn shame for you. Stroke of luck for me.” He winks, and my tummy flips. There’s something about a confident man who can pull a wink like that off, without coming across as smarmy.

“Is it because you’re single on date nights, too?” I ask.

He runs his hand through his short hair. “Yeah, we should get together on our single date nights. At my place. Promise I won’t ogle your stickers… much.”

Did he really just ask me out? And am I really going to say no to a guy going out of his way not to be pervy? Except the date was to his house… and I know what that means. He wants to show me his sexy stick.

I inwardly groan.

“I don’t know you… so while I appreciate your effort, the conversation… and your help with my sticker situation, I’m going to have to say no, thank you.” I really want to say yes, but I’m not in the habit of going to stranger’s houses. Not even if that stranger is made from man candy.

This time, he fully smiles, dimples appearing in his cheeks. His grin reaches all the way to his eyes. I stare at him in confusion. Why would he be happy about me turning him down?

I glance at the line of kids, which is now down to a few stragglers, who are talking with Barney and my coworker Nolan. Two boys who are play fighting crash into the table, sending the remaining books, stickers, and handcuffs flying.

“That’s not good.” I take a step in their direction just as Nolan’s head jerks up. His eyes go wide and his mouth slackens. Oh, crap. Sometimes Nolan freaks out when people upset his displays. “I’ll be right there.”

I turn my attention briefly back to Dallas. “So nice talking to you. If you need help finding,” I scrunch my nose, “anything, let us know.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Once again, his dimples appear, making my heart thump soundly against my chest. Butterflies appear in my tummy—the good kind. “Maybe instead of coming to my house, we can—”

Another crash, followed by shrieks of laughter, makes me smile apologetically. “Hold that thought.” With one last lingering look at Dallas, I hurry to Nolan, but by the time I get there, the books are restacked and everything is put to rights again.

Nolan pulls me to the side. “Do you know who you were just talking to?”

“Dallas the sticker ogler?”

His head falls back a little as his shoulders drop. “How can you be so clueless? Do you own a television? Have Facebook or an Instagram account?”

“I have Instagram.” I attempt to look at Dallas again, hoping for some spark of recognition, but Nolan clamps a hand on my shoulder.

“Do not look. He’ll know we’re talking about him,” he hisses.

“I don’t know who him is,” I snap.

“Dallas Drake.” At my blank look, he sighs thickly. “Tight end for the Raleigh Renegades. All-American… Your sister reps him.”

I groan a little. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Why are you so unhappy about that?” Understanding dawns. “He asked you out.”

“I said no.” I don’t mention Dallas was about to ask me out again… and that if it had been for a more public date, I would have said yes.

“Go say yes.” He shoves me toward him. “Tell him you changed your mind.”

I dig in my sensible heels. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t date employees of Owens PR Firm, that’s why.” Okay, so it’s not a policy in place for me because I don’t work there, but Finley would have my head if I dated an athlete.

“Don’t believe what they say about him in the press, honey. He’s a good guy.”