Scored(35)

“I take it events aren’t your thing.”

“The only thing I’m good at organizing are books.”

“How about this? I put you in contact with my assistant so he can help you, but if you need more direction, come to me.” I have no idea what kind of direction she might need, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to be there for her.

“That’s really sweet of you.”

“Dallas Drake, sweetheart of the Renegades, at your service.”

She laughs again, then sobers a little. “I like you even more when you don’t use lines on me.”

I wait a beat before replying. “I like you so much that I don’t want to use any.”

Her eyes get all soft and sparkly under the kitchen lights.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t because let’s face it, that’s my kind of poetry.”

“Hmm.” She cocks her head to one side, sunshine hair sliding over her shoulder.

“What?”

“I never thought about it that way. I’m sure Keats and even Shakespeare probably used their best lines on women all the time.”

“Are you comparing me to Shakespeare?” I bark out a laugh. Of all the things I’ve been called… that’s a new high.

“In the sense that you’re speaking the language that you know and can turn a phrase with, yeah… I guess I am.” There’s genuine warmth to her words, and it flows to me. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation like this in my life.

It was always stay with what you know, Dallas. I had skills with the ball and with women, but school… that was always a tough one for me. I fucking struggled with reading until sixth grade, but by then, teachers and administrators had me pegged and labeled. I found my worth in the game. The game didn’t care how well I could conjugate a verb or if I could spell momentum right on the first try. My coaches didn’t give a shit if I couldn’t tell them the angle of the ball coming toward me.

Run. Catch. Score.

The only thing that mattered was how good I could be with the ball. It was all that mattered to me about myself… until this very moment.

I lean forward, touching her knee and enjoying the way she wiggles in her seat. Heat and desire climb up my arm faster than I can contain my straining erection from her view. I let my legs falls apart even more, and a smile touches my lips when her gaze drops.

“Too bad about your no-casual-sex rule because when you use lines like that on me… Paige…?” Her gaze flies back to mine, not an ounce of guilt in them for ogling me. Hell, I encouraged it.

“Sorry. I got distracted by… you.” She pushes her hair away from her face. “What were you saying?”

This is going to hurt so bad, not just her but me as well. “I want to reward you with screaming orgasms, but I’m going to respect your rules instead.”





CHAPTER 13




Paige


Two days after my dinner with Dallas, which did not end in screaming orgasms because we really did end up watching reruns of The Office on Netflix, I’m working on putting newly arrived books into the computer system when Nolan brings in a package to my office.

“You’ve got mail,” he says, impersonating the guy who does the AOL voiceover. He’s been watching a lot of I love the 90s lately on You Tube. He places the medium-sized box on my desk and takes a step back.

I look at the return address in confusion. “I didn’t order anything from McMahon Drive—that I know of. What’s on McMahon Drive?”

Nolan rolls his eyes. “That’s your sister’s office… at the Renegades Stadium?”

“Oh.” I smile sheepishly. “I have no idea what the address is because Google Maps does all the work.”

Layton walks in my office. “And because I always drive.”

“That too.” Picking up the box, I shake it. A soft thump hits each side.

“It’s not snakes, Paige.” Layton takes the box from me and uses the sharp side of my scissors to open it. “Oh my.”

Nolan’s eyes widen. “You lucky dog.”

“What is it?” I pull out the first item, turning it around. “Is this a jersey? Oh wait, Dallas’s number is on it. Neat.”

Nolan starts to sputter. “Why does he bother to waste this on her?”

“Get over yourself, Felicia.” Layton bumps Nolan out of the way with her hip. “Looks like your man sent you some goodies.”

I open the box more fully, finding all sorts of Renegade-themed items and clothes. One sweatshirt in particular is labeled a Men’s Double XL. Nolan all but shouts with joy when he sees it.

“Would you like to have this?” I ask, then snatch it back when he makes a grab for it. “Uh-uh. I want something in return.”

“Like what?” Nolan controls the calendar and while he’s very fair, he rarely lets us take the day off unless we’re dying or have cleared it months in advance. We’re a small, private library that’s open to the public, so our staff isn’t very large.

“The next time I need off at the last minute, you say yes.”

“Even if I’m taking it with her,” Layton chimes in.

I scrunch my nose.

“What? We always go places together.”