Scored(38)

“Says the girl who has the nicest parents ever.”

“They want me to move back home, remember?”

“You wanted to move back home after you and Joe got married, remember?”

She makes a face. “I hate it when you remember things.”

“I hate that you’ll be moving.” I really do. Losing Layton as a roommate feels the same way as it did when Finley left for college. “How will I sucker someone into paying more rent than me because I pretend to give them the bigger bedroom?”

“The closet is bigger.”

“Rent just went up twenty-five dollars.”

Layton snorts. “I’m going to miss this.”

“Me too.”

“That’s why I want you to take a chance on Dallas. He could be the one if you give him the chance.”

I pretend to ponder her words. “You might have a point.”

“He seems to be exactly what he presents to the world. You can’t get much better than that. If he were a liar and a cheat, then you and I—the entire planet—would know. Women don’t keep stuff like that quiet. We have to look out for the sisterhood.”

I’m convinced now more than ever that Layton and I share a brain. “I’ll think about it.”

“Promise?”

This time I cross my own heart. “Swear it.”





CHAPTER 14




Dallas


It’s a home-game day on a Saturday afternoon—a makeup game against Miami that was called because of Hurricane Edwardo. I’m sitting in the Renegades locker room with my earbuds in while I transition into beast mode. The Dolphins’ defense is a beast this season, which means there can be no mistakes. No distractions. No—

A text from Paige pops up on my notifications, and I swipe right.

Paige: Good luck today! I’ll be wearing my Renegades jersey while I cheer you on.

Me: Why don’t you put on jeans and join some of the guys and me for drinks after the game before we go back to my place for dinner? Finley’s not invited. JK.

Paige: That sounds nice, but I was thinking I could wear my jersey to your house and bring Mexican takeout? I’ll be starving by the time everything is done and over.

Paige at my place again. Wearing my jersey and bringing Mexican. I’m pretty fucking sure I’m about to die and go to heaven.

Me: I’ll let the guys know. BTW, this will be date 4 if you’re keeping count.

Paige: Sounds like you’re the one keeping count.

Me: I’m a fan of numbers. Math, especially. No matter where you go, 2+2=4.

Paige: That’s your go-to international language? I’m shocked.

Me: Number two is the language of love.

Paige: There he is… LOL.

Me: If you want to head on over to watch the game on my big screen, the codes to get into my gate and house are 5734, 31415.

Paige: Got it! See you tonight. Go Renegades!

I allow myself time to enjoy her last line before I put my phone in airplane mode and concentrate on the beat.

My blood starts to pound.

My leg starts to jump.

My hands start to flex.

The lead up to the game is almost exactly the same as the lead up to sex. Hell, I look at sex and football in almost the same light. Both require patience, a light touch, and the instinct to know when to drive in deep. A certain amount of finesse is required throughout, especially after everything is said and done. Everyone involved needs to be satisfied and go home with a smile on their face.

The main difference is I have more control over satisfaction and smiles in the bedroom. I can guaran-damn-tee that they’ll come back for more.

Except with Paige. With her, I actually have to try, have to learn new plays that keep me from scoring but will lead to a win by the end. Or at least, I hope so.

Coach strides in the locker room, the assistant coaches following close behind. He’s got his game face on. He wants to win this badly. Miami was his old team. The one he cut his teeth on when he first got started.

“We’re not going to let you down, Coach,” I say, and my teammates start to chime in.

“We’re going to spank Miami so hard they’ll cry.”

“They will know the Renegades hit them hard.”

As one, we stand up, getting more pumped with each passing moment, and bring it in for a last-minute huddle and prayer.

My thoughts shift to Paige and the long game I’m playing with her.

Shit, I know I’ll win.

I’m Dallas Drake. All-American tight end. Got the lightest hands and the biggest dick in the NFL. I know how to use them to my advantage.

It’s simply a matter of time before Paige is the beneficiary.

*

We managed to eke out a win with a two-point conversion. Press interviews didn’t last too long, but each second seemed like a fucking eternity. Usually, I enjoy the questions, the good-natured ribbing, and the chance to brag about the team.

But tonight, thoughts of Paige were overriding the awesome feeling of winning against a team like Miami. I think I even blanked on a couple of the questions tossed my way.

Good thing Aiden was there to make sure everyone knew it was all about him. By good thing, I mean what a fucking asshole… yet at the same time, I was grateful.

I tap the remote on my sun visor and the gates part. Paige’s sedan is parked in my driveway, and my heart speeds up to levels that are reserved for sex and games.